


A Ferret Tale

by meandminniemcg



Series: Courtship [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Case Fic, Draco loses all he is used to having, F/F, F/M, Ferret Draco Malfoy, In a later chapter men buying lace lingerie to wear, M/M, Pining, Post hogwarts EWE, also clothes per se don't have a gender, and finds himself, not tagged as Crossdressing bc the lingerie wasn't worn as a way to look like a woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meandminniemcg/pseuds/meandminniemcg
Summary: Who are you when all your ability to impress is taken from you? How do you cope if you are adopted by Potter as a pet ferret? And worst of all: if he is the Auror on the case of your disappearance.And the other side of the coin: You fall in love with your former arch-nemesis, but can't find a trace of him in the present. And your posh ferret is a constant reminder of Malfoy's absence.





	1. Chapter 1 (It's Probably Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my awesome betas Vany and keyflight790.
> 
> I have the idea with the wands as line breakers from here: http://members.madasafish.com/~cj_whitehound/Fanfic/ffn_how-to.htm

“You can’t do that! You want to close the case after only three weeks? I can’t believe you!” Harry glared angrily at Head Auror Robards “If we don’t do our job because the disappeared person used to be a Deatheater while still being a minor, we are not much better than Fudge and his kind.”  
“I would like to keep going, but none, and I mean literally none of the Aurors want to do it. They are all on other cases. And you and Mr. Weasley have resigned altogether. So, what can I do?”  
Before he knew what he was saying, Harry said, “Okay, forget about me not working at the DMLE anymore, because I wanted to renovate my home before I start as DADA teacher in six months. From this afternoon on I’m on the case. And if I find him before the six months are over, I will spend the rest of the time lecturing my _dear_ colleagues about the tasks of Aurors in a democratic wizarding society. They are lagging far behind.”  
Without a further word, he left the office slamming the door. 

“Uncle Harry, uncle Harry!”, Teddy came running as fast as if he was flying. “Uncle Harry, there is a box. And it seems to move!”  
Assuming that the little Metamorphmagus wanted to play another game of pretending, Harry let Teddy pull him towards a bench on the other side of the Muggle playground. There really was a large parcel box which moved indeed. It had holes in the lid and was tied with a green ribbon. A message was also written on it. 

> ‘Do with this animal whatever your lot do with them. It just makes my wife cry, because it reminds her of our lost son.’

  
Harry looked left and right. No muggles anywhere. He pointed his wand at the box and flicked his wrist. _“Transparens”_  
“Uncle Harry, it’s cute! Can I keep it? Can I? Please?”  
“Teddy, I don’t think your Grandma will accept keeping a ferret. She doesn’t even want you to keep a Crup or a Kneazle.” He looked at the little animal, deep in his thoughts. “But you know what? I think I want to keep it. It reminds me of someone I knew when I was at Hogwarts… You remember the story I told you? About a cousin of yours who was in my classes?”  
“Uncle Draco? Who ran away? And whom you have to look for?”  
“Yes, him.” Harry sighed, he had never expected it, but he kind of missed the git. And he thought about the case a lot, even in his spare time.

Something about it stopped him from calming down: something strange. “Teddy, should we call the Ferret Dragon? Or Dray? Coco?”  
At the mention of the name Coco the ferret hissed.  
“Okay, not Coco.” Harry chuckled.  
Teddy started trying out names.  
“Mally?” Hissing.  
“Dray?” Hissing.  
“Dragon?” Hissing.  
Teddy was a bit disappointed that the ferret rejected his nice suggestions. He summoned all his courage, although Grandma disapproved of giving animals people names.  
“I don’t know if it is okay to suggest that,” he stage-whispered. “But what about… Draco?”  
The ferret made a content sound like “Dook.”

“Uncle Harry, he wants to be called Draco! Our ferret’s name is Draco!” Teddy bounced up and down with joy. “I wish Uncle Draco knew that we named our ferret after him. He would know he is special.”  
“I doubt that he would like it, after what happened in fourth year. You know, the teacher who wasn’t the real teacher but an impostor? Turning him into a ferret exactly like this, forcing him to bounce around” 

Harry’s thoughts trailed away. That day, he may have thought it hilarious, but something was different since then; when Malfoy was in ferret form, Harry had imagined touching his fur, had wondered if it was as soft as it looked. And when Malfoy was back to his own self, Harry had kept wondering about his hair. Gradually he had noticed more about Malfoy’s looks. Malfoy was a git, but Harry had started seeing more as the time went on: His slim hands, his neckline, his hard-shaped features, his arse when he sat on his broom during a Quidditch match, his lips, his stormy grey eyes… Harry had often wondered how such a git was able to look so angelic, so… beautiful. 

How often they had gotten into fights. And every time they had fought physically, Harry had been in a strange state of arousal afterwards: He had closed the curtains of his bed as soon as all his dorm mates were asleep, cast a silencing charm, recalling Malfoy’s scent and the feeling of Malfoy’s breath in his face, and wanked to it.

When the others suspected that he was in love with someone, he had claimed it was Ginny he had feelings for; after all, how could he fancy the son of Lucius Malfoy, ice prince of Slytherin house? That was a double taboo, not to mention the fact that he was a boy. Everyone had seemed to believe him though. But two other Gryffindors soon knew: Whenever nobody else was listening in, Seamus told him to admit he fancied blokes based on the way he would stare at Malfoy’s arse. While in every other matter Seamus didn’t have much interest in other people’s privacy, he would always check twice and make sure nobody could eavesdrop, also confidentially telling Harry about his own feelings for Dean. 

The other Gryffindor was – how could it have been different – Hermione. She was the one who gave him the talk about safer sex, making it include, no, even focus on gay sex.  
“Why on earth do you know all this?” Harry had asked her, more than a little embarrassed by the thirty-minute speech on anal sex after a speech of only three minutes on vaginal sex.  
“You don’t think I will let my best friend ruin his health because he doesn’t inform himself well on safer sex. Wizards take the whole thing too carelessly. And don’t you dare to tell me you’re straight. If you fancy girls at all, you are bi. Whenever you have a chance to look your eyes are glued to Malfoy’s body.”

Harry had gasped for breath, and Hermione had continued, “It’s not my secret, so I won’t tell anybody, not even Ron. No, especially not Ron. I’m sure he will accept it when you come around to tell him you fancy Malfoy, but you should come out to yourself first. Tell him you like blokes and take a lot of time until you inform him you are attracted to Malfoy. Ron won’t have problems with you being bi or gay, like Fred. He might have a problem with the Slytherin prince though.”  
Harry had known better than to argue about it. That was Hermione after all. But he had been sure he would rather ask a dementor for a yule ball date than tell Ron anything about his confusing sexual thoughts.

He later had dated Ginny, and yes, he had enjoyed the physical aspect of it, but it had not worked out; if bisexuality was a continuum they both were rather a lopsided type of bi, rather more inclined to their own sex. Meanwhile, Ginny was dating her seeker, and Harry was working long hours and not really inclined to date anybody; not if everybody just wanted the hero and nobody wanted just Harry.  
“Uncle Harry, are you sleeping with your eyes open? I asked you what an inposter is!” Teddy tugged at his sleeve harshly. 

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

He couldn’t fucking believe it. He was sitting inside a cardboard box with air holes, but no way to get out. His claws and teeth could scratch it but leave no trace. The bloody cardboard box must be enchanted with an _Impervius_ spell. Salazar’s balls, how was he to ever get out of here? From somewhere he heard fast light steps, like a preschool or younger school child would sound running on a playground. Perhaps this was his only chance to escape his prison. He jumped against the walls of the box. If this child opened it, he would jump over their shoulder and run away.  
But no, the steps trailed off again. He felt like giving up.  
_'No. Malfoys never give up! They fucking live for self-preservation. Another braver child will come around and rescue me!'_

Now he overheard two voices talking somewhere in a distance… no idea what they were saying, but the man’s voice was a somewhat familiar baritone. Not that he could place it where he knew the voice from, but he felt his pulse pick up, no idea if he liked it or not.  
He heard the voices come closer, the child chattered something, then the man’s voice again: _“Transparens!”_  
_'A wizard! A wizard I know. Salazar! Can’t a fucking muggle find me?'_ Calloused male brown hands appeared between the lid and the box, opening the box slowly… _Potter! It’s fucking Potter’s face that appears behind the lid of the box._

Draco froze in place. Was the child a Weasel then? No, he saw a strand of aquamarine hair beside Potter. No Weasel was a Metamorphmagus, but he had heard the rumors about his cousin Nymphadora Tonks, that she had a child with Lupin before their death. He had never known Nymphadora, only seen her picture after the war, but she was one. And it had gone through the press that Potter was the godfather of the orphan. Tony? Timmy? Teddy? Teddy Lupin, that’s what it was! Looking a little bit more precisely, he could tell the eye shape looked a bit like Black features coming through. 

Mother had never had the courage to ask Aunt Andromeda for forgiveness. But Draco knew she was missing her, had always missed her. What would she say if she knew that in this moment Teddy was reaching out to scratch Draco’s ears? The thought of being touched by a five-year-old had seemed scary, but now the knowledge that Teddy was so far the only relative being friendly to his ferret form made him accept, even enjoy the child’s slightly boisterous fingers on his head. Wasn’t the little boy even a little bit cute with his blue hair?  
_'But even though the little one looks kind of cute, I don’t want to be at his mercy. Potter! Don’t let him keep me, in this fucking ferret form! I’m too small for a probably six-year-old kid. What, Potter wants to keep me, I don’t know whether to feel grateful or humiliated by the fact that he thinks he must save me just again. Saved from clumsy children’s hands and doomed to life in the house of Harry Potter, the hero who couldn’t wear stylish clothes if his life depended on it. Probably all his furniture is Gryffindor red. And he always hangs out with the Weasels, okay, Granger is there, too, after apologizing to her, we had some interesting conversations.'_

_'“Coco?” Nope, never! Even as a child he should know it’s a daft name, especially for a male. Potter, be less of a tosser than I think you are and don’t call me anything so hideous! It was just a hissing sound that left my mouth though, for fuck’s sake!'_  
But Potter seemed to get it, nonetheless. They came up with other silly suggestions, but, at least they asked. Now Teddy suggests “Draco” with that cute shy look.  
_'Oh yes, I would hate to have them call a fucking ferret after me, but this 'Oh yes, I would hate to have them call a fucking ferret after me, but this ferret happens to be me, and for me any other name would be an insult just as bad as turning me into a ferret. Did I consent to be called Draco? Obviously, I did.'_

“I wish Uncle Draco knew that we named our ferret after him. He would know he is special.”  
“I doubt that he would like it, after what happened in fourth year…” What was wrong with Potter? No laughter at the joke on Draco, no triumphant spark in his eyes at calling a ferret after his Hogwarts rival? Rather a sad look.“I doubt that he would like it, after what happened in fourth year…” _'A Sickle for your thoughts, Potter, or a Galleon.'_  
Draco was worried that Potter might grab him in a painful way, but he just smiled, revealing a dimple on the left cheek that Draco had never noticed before. “Hey, Draco, I know you understand me. Climb on my arm. I have seen you don’t feel well in the box.” Since when was Potter so obnoxiously considerate? How was Draco supposed to keep up his attitude towards Potter? Still, it seemed he had to comply with anything Potter was doing, he was not able to fend for himself; he didn’t even know how to be a ferret. With a feeling of resignation, he climbed on Potter’s arm, and Potter carefully put his hand on Draco’s back to steady him. A scent of Mangoes, Sandalwood and … and of … of Potter surrounded him. It had to be his ferret nose that liked the scent, it could not be that Draco would have liked it under normal circumstances. It could be that fighting a rival aroused him in his human form, but not Potter, no. Potter’s scent could not, Potter had to stink, or Draco would be losing his mind. 

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Harry and Teddy went to a Muggle pet shop close to the park to buy supplies for the ferret, but only the things that Harry could not transfigure or probably get in a better quality at a magical pet shop. He had the hunch that most ferret cages and ferret toys in this shop would not be up to Draco-the-ferret’s standard. Surely this ferret would turn out to be as posh as Malfoy. And he would lie if he said he didn’t find that thought strangely comforting.  
Teddy was hyped and Harry tried to suppress his melancholy without success; Draco Malfoy may never have been a friend of his, but he was an essential part of Harry’s life, even if they only passed each other on Diagon Alley once in a while, nodding a greeting. Sadly, Draco the ferret made the lack of Draco Malfoy in the wizarding world even more present. This was the third time Harry felt an extreme fear of what a Malfoyless world would be, since that day at work he was the one who had to find him, like last time he had saved Malfoy from the Fiendfyre, and the first time… the first time was the biggest guilt he had ever laden upon himself; the _Sectumsempra_.  
_'Was it the Sectumsempra that makes me so afraid of a world, a life, without knowing he is out there, somewhere? Teddy is showing me how well he can juggle the two bags of ferret treats, I’d better smile at him.'_

“Uncle Harry? Are you sad? Your smile looks like it hurts.” Teddy hugged Harry.  
“I was remembering the biggest mistake I ever made in my life. Because it was dangerous for your Uncle Draco.”  
“What happened?”  
“We were dueling, and I used a spell I didn’t know enough about. And it turned out to be a very bad curse. He got seriously injured and if our teacher had not come inside, he would have died. I was petrified and couldn’t move to get help.”  
“Was it Madame Sprout? I think a Herbology teacher is good at saving someone?”  
Ever since they had visited Neville together and Neville had told Teddy about Madame Sprout, he thought about her a lot.  
“No, it was our Potions teacher, Professor Snape.”

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Draco remembered the extreme pain, the blood gushing out of him, Potter’s panicked face, and his own – calm. He had not expected to survive; rather he had thought that death would free him from a task he could not and did not want to fulfill. His vision was blurred, he had felt the world zooming out, but suddenly he had thought he heard Potter’s voice far away. “Please, don’t die.” Then Snape’s slow words _“Vulnera… sanentur.”_ It had been a moment’s decision to let himself be pulled back, because things had started to zoom back in, his vision was less blurred. _“Vulnera… sanentur.”_ Slowly he had started seeing again, getting his focus back. _“Vulnera… sanentur.”_ Draco had heard Snape reproaching Potter, while Potter kept repeating that he had had no idea what the curse would do. Potter wanted him to live. Potter! Wanted! Him! To live! Would anybody on his father’s side of this war want that for Arthur Weasley, to live if they ever got him into a life-threatening situation? No, he knew how they would definitely kill him with the ambition of killing in a most painful way. Or at least not trying to stop it.

He had tried to push the memory of Potter’s reaction away, tried to function, knowing Voldemort might kill his mother if he didn’t; but somewhere in his mind things had changed. If Potter wanted him, the junior Deatheater, to live, if there was a place for a living Draco Malfoy in Harry Potter’s world… He had grown up with the thought that it wouldn’t matter what everyone thought, that only his parents and him serving the Dark Lord made them able to live. Maybe Potter’s side was not what his father had always told him. Draco had carried on as he had been told to, but his heart was not in it anymore. His thoughts were running away way too often to the damn Golden Boy. If Snape had not interfered and killed Dumbledore, Draco would have given in to the world of the old fool, even though he was skeptical of him. Then, the next year, when he was told to identify Potter, he summoned all his Occlumency skills and said he didn’t know if it was him and it had felt as if a part of his magical core he had not felt since he had been marked had come back to life and was stirring carefully, giving him hope.

But now, back into reality, Draco saw from Harry’s shoulder that they were approaching a house that had suddenly appeared between two other houses, and the wards let them in.  
“Welcome to your new home, Draco the Ferret,” Harry said softly. Draco had the feeling as if he had seen the house before, but had no conscious memories of it. Definitely not the furniture, also the entrance hall didn’t remind him of anything, but the stairs to the first floor seemed familiar. Potter carried him upstairs calling out “Kreacher!”

An ancient house elf Apparated immediately.

“Yes, master Harry”, he said in a rather grumpy voice, in a tone Draco’s father would never have tolerated from a house elf.  
“Please, I’ve told you, just Harry. How are you? Could you help me get Buckbeak’s old room ready, I have adopted a ferret; his name is Draco.”  
At first, Kreacher’s face looked as if he had bitten into something rotten. Then he took a closer look and flinched. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to say something that got stuck in his throat, then he swallowed hard and said slowly:  
“Yes, master Harry. Master Harry and Kreacher must give Ferret Draco a nice home. Ferret Master Draco belongs to the house…”  
With a murmur that even Draco’s ears could not discern, Kreacher went into a room with a blue door, while Harry and Teddy returned with Draco to the kitchen. 

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Harry found it weird. Since when did Kreacher refer to an animal as ‘master?’ Could the ferret be an Animagus? Harry decided to talk to Minnie. When he accepted her job offer for next term, the Headmistress had offered him first name terms, even to call her Minnie, as his father, Sirius and Remus had done – even if she didn’t exactly allow them to.  
After preparing dinner for himself and Teddy, he gave Draco ferret food, which he rejected on the floor but ate with a big appetite on a third place set on the table. After Teddy was asleep, Harry approached the fireplace in the drawing room, saying “The Headmistress of Hogwarts.”

It didn’t take long until he saw Minnie’s familiar wrinkles in her face, only the laugh lines had deepened.  
“Harry, nice to hear from you this evening. We only just talked yesterday, do you have any news?”  
“Oh, yes, and a little request. I have found this ferret, and when I think of Ron’s rat, I just want to know for sure I didn’t bring an Animagus to my house. Could you help me, please?”  
She came through the Floo and took a look at the ferret. 

“That reminds me of someone...” Then she swished her wand _“Animagum returno!”_ Nothing happened. _“Homenum Revelio.”_ Again nothing. “Harry, don’t worry, this is not someone planning to sneak into your house, no Animagus, and also not someone turned into an animal by means of a wearing-off potion. Although… for an animal of this type common among Muggles, it has quite a magical signature. I don’t know if that is its own signature or that of its former owners. But the signature is blurred, like the people didn’t want it to be identifiable. Yet, something about it feels familiar, like I know the family… What can you tell me about it?”  
“Well, Draco was in a box that had been charmed. He came from a wizarding household, that’s for sure. It said something about a lost son and how it reminded them of him. After everything that happened, I’d guess the Malfoys,” Harry said.

“You called him Draco? Because of this?”  
Minerva gave him a stern look.  
“Actually, Teddy came up with different names and the ferret didn’t hiss when Teddy suggested ‘Draco’” Harry replied sheepishly.  
“You miss him, don’t you?” Minnie put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Yes,” he sighed. “We were never friends, but he was a constant in my life. I hope I can find him alive, without him our world is not the same. I am not the same.”  
Harry didn’t know where this came from, but suddenly he knew it was true.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Draco lay comfortably on his dog bed and heard the clock strike one when he suddenly heard Potter’s voice in the bedroom next door.  
_'I just hope the Golden Boy is not wanking!'_  
He wanted to hide his ears under his paws, but his legs seemed to walk towards the door without his consent. _No, stop, no need to look at his private parts, I must stop that nonsense!_ But he was already at the threshold of Potter’s bedroom. Potter was not wanking. Instead, he tossed and turned on top of the duvet dressed in boxers and a white t-shirt.

“No! Malfoy, hold on, no, Malfoy, don’t let go. Fire! Careful! No! Noooooooo! Maaaaalfoooooy!” Potter sat up panting, and Draco climbed on the bed, sniffing at Potter’s hand. Potter held him and lay down again.  
_'Potter has nightmares, too. He sees the Fiendfyre in his nightmares, too. And he’s feared of me burning, he fears for my life in his nightmares.'_  
Within a short time, Potter was holding Draco tight in his arm, asleep again, but this time peacefully. Draco felt weird. It should be uncomfortable to be confined in Potter’s arm like a stuffed animal. It should even be repulsive, but it turned out to feel good. Potter held him tight enough for him not to be able to move, but tenderly enough to feel good. And Potter smelled good; his fingers were close to Draco’s face and smelled of rosemary, lavender and sage, Draco’s favorite spices, and underneath he perceived Potter’s own scent. It was quite comforting. Draco got lost in memories of his mother’s herb garden and fell asleep himself. 


	2. Chapter 2 (And I Think Of You)

When Harry woke up, something silky was nuzzling his armpit. He craned his neck and remembered the events of yesterday. It was Draco the ferret. Harry lifted his other hand and stroked the soft fur on the ferret’s back. That was not normal, was it? He cast a Tempus, it was four o’clock, so he shifted the ferret, turned carefully, and fell asleep again after a short time

“Hey, Draco, have you dined with the Minister of Magic before? Your eating manners are flawless for an animal.” Harry chuckled. Draco glared at him. “Sorry, I didn’t want to offend you. I admire your table manners, just like your namesake’s. I guess if my parents had raised me, I would have good table manners, but in the Dursleys’ house the question was if I got something to eat or not, and if I did, I had to eat fast, so the food would not get snatched away from me.” 

The ferret padded across the table and softly placed a paw on top of Harry’s left hand as if to comfort him. This reminded Harry of Hedwig. She had also always shown the animal version of empathy.

Teddy laughed. “He wants you to smile, Uncle Harry.”

Suddenly Harry heard a sound from the window: A barn owl knocked with its beak on the windowpane. Harry took an owl treat from a box on the sill, opened the window just a little bit, and the owl stretched out its leg with a haughty to-whoo. It took the treat and flew away.

> Dear Potter,
> 
> I heard you volunteered to investigate the case of Draco’s disappearance. I am grateful to you for keeping the old enmity aside and trying to find him. In my hands, there is an item I would like to show you, something he gave me recently to keep for him. Please, firecall me today to make an appointment. My Floo address is Number 28 Garden Passage, Totnes. Please, forgive me that I ask you to contact me on a Saturday, but my working schedule is very harsh these days.
> 
> Thank you in advance.
> 
> Sincerely,  
>  Blaise Zabini

  
Before Harry even thought about it, he was firecalling Zabini already, making an appointment for the afternoon, to meet him at the Blue Chrysanthemum after dropping Teddy at Andromeda’s house.

 

“How come the Golden Boy has no office at the DMLE?” Zabini greeted him in his clipped way of speaking. “I thought the Head Auror would easily give up the most luxurious office for you.”

“Until last week I had an office, I must disappoint you, it was a rather average one. But under normal circumstances I would have been on a sabbatical now, and you can’t expect the DMLE to let an office go empty while in other offices three Aurors share the space for two.” Harry answered politely, oppressing a feeling of annoyance. “By the way, I took back my sabbatical, so Malfoy’s case would not be closed after only three weeks.”

Zabini gave him a sheepish look and opened his stylish briefcase. “Does it conflict with Auror policy if we are on first name terms from now on?”

Harry thought he was unlikely to like it. Zabini was still that posh dress robe and Armani guy, but some of his friends got along with him very well, so better get used to it before pissing off someone.

“No problem, Blaise.”

Zabini took a wooden box, about the size of a Muggle students’ pencil case, out of it and placed it before Harry. “Last time he stayed for two weeks at my place, Draco gave me this to keep. He said it was something his father should not see. He had a lot of conflicts with his father since Malfoy Senior was released from Azkaban.”

Harry smiled at him. This might be a help to find Malfoy. “Do you happen to know what the conflicts were about? And what was important to Malfoy? When my colleagues questioned his parents they were not really helpful. It sounded like he didn’t really share his thoughts with them.”

“An accurate observation. Did you notice that or your colleagues?” Zabini asked with a raised eyebrow. Did Slytherins get tutorials on how to raise a single eyebrow from their head of house?

“My colleagues, mind you, my least favorite colleagues, were on the case. They didn’t really bother to observe much. They signed the Quick Quote Protocol and concluded that there were no clues at all. There were no protocols of talk with anybody except his parents and the Potions Master he was working for. If you had not sent me an owl, I would have turned to you next, hoping you were still a friend of his.” 

Zabini gave Harry a smile, and Harry thought that it was the first time he had seen Zabini giving him a genuinely friendly look.

“I’m not surprised his parents are clueless. His father prefers talking to listening, and he may have turned away from worshipping noseless abominations, but he wants to press Draco into a Pureblood mold that Draco doesn’t fit in. And his mother loves Draco as a mother should love her child, but she ought to book sessions with a mind healer.” Harry detected a look on Zabini’s face as if he doubted that he should have said the last part.

He smiled reassuringly at Zabini. “Nothing wrong with seeing a mind healer. I’m seeing one myself because of the things that happened to me during the war. She also encouraged me to teach DADA instead of staying an Auror.”

“Neville says you were the second-best DADA teacher he had in school days, just after Lupin. And in those days you were a student just like the rest of us.” Blaise smiled. “When I’m a father one day, I will like it if my children will be taught by you. But what made you not want to be an Auror anymore?”

“When I was a teenager, I never could imagine doing anything else but fighting against Voldemort. And I could not imagine a life after Voldemort’s death. But that was not who I was, that was what was forced on me. And it keeps traumatizing me. Then, last year, I held a Patronus Workshop for Auror Trainees, and I felt so alive. When I told my mind healer, she recommended I change my profession.” Harry took a sip of his Chai Latte.

“If I tell Pansy, Greg, the Greengrasses and Theo you are serious about investigating this case and finding Draco, I’m sure they will gladly answer questions, too. They were scared of the kind of Ministry people who see Slytherin on someone’s CV and get all judgmental.” Blaise’s tone had lost its formality, assuming the somewhat excited tone Harry remembered Blaise had spoken with during interesting Transfiguration lessons, asking McGonagall questions. He had been the only Slytherin showing enthusiasm about Transfiguration.

Harry smiled at him. “I almost would have been in Slytherin myself, and my godson’s grandmother taught me to cherish my Slytherin side, although I can’t regret the choice of 11-year-old me. It gave me a family.”

Blaise ordered two glasses of wine, and when the waiter brought them, he raised his glass, saying: “To the end of rivalries.”

“To the end of rivalries.” Harry echoed, truly feeling it.

“Back to the topic: Do you have an idea what Malfoy’s conflict with his father is about?” Harry asked after a swig from his glass.

“There is the usual complaint our parents have against us, that we adopt too much from Muggle culture, they think we abandon wizarding culture for it, but if you like bananas that does not mean you dislike cherries. And bananas and cherries together may be just the perfect combination.” Blaise quickly cast a Muffliato, took another swig from his glass and continued. 

“But I think the main issue between them is that his father expects him to marry a Pureblood woman and start procreating. He tries to arrange marriages, but any time Draco hears his father has invited a family, he will show up at the doorstep of one of us and stay there until the family has given up on this particular arrangement. His mother would also be happy with a nice half-blood witch, and by now maybe even a muggleborn would have a chance to see a smile on her face. But no woman seems to interest him.”

Harry fidgeted under the table. “Reminds me of Molly when Ginny and I told her we felt more like siblings to each other. She brought her friends’ daughters home to meet me, and their sons to meet her. Until the day the Prophet showed a picture of her snogging Grace Nwafor.”

“How did she react?” Blaise leaned forward in his seat and grabbed his glass tight.

Harry chuckled. “She sent a howler. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me? I could have known you are happy.’ That’s how Molly is. Ginny was anxious for nothing. Later Molly told us, that firstly, Fred had come out to her about his relationship with Lee, and secondly, her brother Fabian was gay, too.”

“I wish Draco was equally lucky,” Blaise said bleakly.

“Is he gay?” Harry tried to make the question come out neutral, not really convinced of his success.

“He never said anything, I don’t know if he even is out to himself, but I have never seen him look at any woman’s breasts the way he looked at a certain bloke’s body throughout our Hogwarts years. Please, never write this into any protocol. I should never have said anything at all.” Blaise got visibly nervous as he fidgeted with the napkin.

Harry gave him a bright smile. “Don’t worry, this information will not spill to the rest of the DMLE, unless Draco Malfoy himself consents to it. I never noticed Malfoy checking out any bloke, when I watched him in sixth year. But maybe he did so in the Slytherin common room.”

Blaise shot him a look Harry could not interpret.

Harry sipped from his wine. “I wouldn’t want to be outed against my will. Why should I out anybody.”

“Would it bring me a disadvantage if I asked you if there is anything to out about you?”

That was like a Poker game. “Professor Sprout outed my father to me as someone who was pants at herbology. You will find something outable in the straightest person if you look hard enough.”  
“Touché. I’m pansexual.” Blaise replied.

“And I’m on Malfoy’s case.”

Blaise burst out in laughter. “You didn’t really think I was flirting with you? One of your friends caught my eye. If things work out you could advise me about what courtship gifts would be good? I feel like this time I might even get serious about it. It feels so much deeper than ever before.”

“If they agree to be courted, you can ask me. Good luck with them.” Harry hoped that it would be Neville. He knew that Neville had quite a crush on Blaise. “And, I trust you not to tell the press, but I’m bi with a lop-side towards blokes.”

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Draco was kind of relieved but jealous when Potter finally returned. He smelled of a 1994 Cabernet made by the Nott elves. This wine was only served at the Blue Chrysanthemum.

Surely Potter didn’t go there with his friends. It was a restaurant frequented mainly by Purebloods. Potter’s hand smelled of Blaise. Draco hissed at it.

“Okay, sorry, Draco. I’ll wash my hands. And I’m sorry I left you alone so long. They would not have tolerated you there, and I needed to get some information. You know, I want to find your namesake. Our world isn’t quite the same without him.”

_I swear to Merlin, if you date him, I’ll piss into your shoes and eat your dressrobes. Wait, why do I care? Anyway, you are not allowed to date Blaise, that bugger. Wait, what? Did Potter just say our world is not the same without me? No, he can’t have meant it personally. Perhaps people pressure him to find me._

Draco felt the urge to climb all over Potter and sniff out if there had been any indecent contact between Potter and Blaise. He managed to reach his shoulders, and as Harry sat down on the sofa and let go of him, also his crotch. No, probably only a handshake, but in his pocket, something smelled familiar. A wood item. Blaise had touched it, but it smelled like Draco’s own property.

Potter reached into his pocket. He brought Draco’s box out, the one he had given Blaise to keep. Fuck! He should have burnt it. It contained his diaries of his school years, including the discovery that he was gay. Not that he had ever even snogged a bloke, but all his attempts to do something with girls had been just awful disasters, and he had caught himself checking out his male classmates again and again. Even worse, his bad poetry of second year about Potter, Potter with his stupid hair that seemed to say ‘Draco, touch me,’ with his green eyes making Draco want to steal the glasses, his neck that looked as if it was made to be nuzzled, his chuckle, that he would only chuckle for his friends… wait, now that Draco was a ferret Potter had chuckled for him a few times, too…

Draco released a deep breath that would have been a sigh if ferrets were able to sigh like human beings. The world was unfair. As a ferret he could have Potter’s undivided attention. Potter liked him, even, but to get that he had to do without being a human, without his magic, without any way of impressing him. And if he ever got his human form back they would be what they were before, acquaintances, no longer enemies, but in no way friendly towards each other.

Fucking bloody hell! Potter would never smile affectionately at a former Death Eater! _Pull yourself together, Draco, it is better to sneer and snarl than to be vulnerable! Potter is obnoxious, he has to be obnoxious, I’m fucked anyway, but if I don’t find him obnoxious I’m too fucked to survive it._

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Harry sat in his study with a cup of crisped mint tea trying to open the box. It had no lock and looked like an ordinary box that could be opened by folding up the lid, but it stayed put as if under the influence of glue or a permanent sticking charm. Harry Accioed a needle and tried to loosen the connection between the box and the lid. Suddenly, the box seemed to suck in the needle, and it disappeared inside followed by a little sound that indicated its landing on the floor of the box.

He cast an Alohomora at the box, with the result that all five drawers of his desk opened and hit his shin, but the box stayed closed. Harry got up and walked to the fireplace: “Hermione Granger, Wintergreen Flats.”

“Harry, good evening. How is the Malfoy case? And is it true that you forced Robards to let you investigate it? You didn’t tell me about that part.”

“Yeees, I might have lost my patience with them. But we can’t decide that we don’t like a person and be slack about investigating.” Harry said sheepishly.

Hermione chuckled: “Harry, I agree with you. But would you have given up your Sabbatical equally readily for Zacharias Smith? No need to answer me, it’s just that you have a thing for posh gits. And I know you firecalled me because of the case. You have always had that look on your face when you needed some help from me.” She came through the Floo, and Harry showed her the box.

“Harry, this is not what I can solve. I may be an Unspeakable, but I’m not able to procure the magical signatures of other people. If Malfoy wanted it to be possible for someone he trusted to open it, he will have charmed it to open if you do a specific movement with an item he chose to unlock it. If he expected to never be able to trust anybody, only his magical signature will open it. And the item and the movement might be literally anything. You could drink Felix Felicis and try random items moving them in random patterns about the box. But I have no means of helping you with that.”

Hermione and Harry chatted for nearly an hour about George’s new product line, appropriate presents for Dean and Seamus’ wedding and the Remus Lupin Institute charity.

When she had gone back, Harry felt depressed. He had something in his hand that could have important information, and no way to access it. He wanted to solve this case. Bloody hell, he needed to end his Auror career with a bang, with success where others didn’t look at all! Fuck! Felix Felicis was really hard to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter titles (at least so far) are song titles. (Chapter 1: Sting, Chapter 2: Tanita Tikaram)
> 
> A big thank you to my betas: @keyflight790 and Vany


	3. Frozen and broken

After two days of prodding and poking at different parts of the box, trying all of the unlocking charms Harry could find in the AMAL (Alastor Moody Aurors’ Library) and pondering whether it would rather bring a result to kiss or to imperius the box - of course he would not sink so low as to try one of these things, but after a sleepless night he did have those weird ideas – Harry fell asleep at the desk in his study. And again, he dreamt of Malfoy, sitting in a cold dungeon, surrounded by dementors. Harry had to get close enough for his Patronus to chase them away, but as fast as he ran, it seemed he could not move forward, until the dungeon was no longer a dungeon, but a box.

He awoke feeling something cool and moist at his nose.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Last night, Draco had slept on the dog bed, even though he preferred sleeping in Potter’s bed. But Potter had been too restless after trying all kinds of ridiculous things on Draco’s box trying to open it. He had sat at his desk far longer than Draco managed, and when Draco awoke, Harry was pacing the floor nervously. Draco suspected that Potter had not slept at all. If things were to go on like this, Potter would start looking as awful as Draco had always claimed in their school days.

As much as he hated to share his secrets, he began to consider letting Potter see the contents of the box. It was not as if it still made a difference; he was no longer a human being, so what was the use of his reputation to him. His father had cast him out in the most humiliating way, his mother didn’t recognize him at all. If he had to spend the rest of his miserable life as Potter’s pet, he could as well let him know the school-time secrets of his human self.

After all, Potter was a chivalrous Gryffindor; he would not take his confusion about his sexuality to Rita Skeeter. Worst thing he could do would be to laugh at it with Weasley, and that may be awful, but seeing a handsome bloke like Potter - What was he thinking, handsome? _FUCKING BLOODY HELL!_ Seeing a healthy bloke like Potter – yes, that was okay, Potter looked healthy - get all worn out over this puzzle that he would never in his life solve, turned out to be worse. He had to help Potter to get the books. After all, Potter had said in an interview in the Quibbler, that he was proud of Ginev- Girl Weasley when she came out as a lesbian.

Slowly, Draco resolved to really open the box if there was enough of his magical signature left in him to get it open, but never would he let Potter know that it was him. As exhausted as Potter looked, how could he possibly stay awake for long anymore? It was just a matter of time until Draco would be able to sneak between Potter’s hands and touch the signature-reading spot.

After what felt like an eternity, but might have just been ten minutes, Potter really was asleep, his mouth slightly open, looking younger than he was, vulnerable and – beautiful? _Is my brain so addled by my momentary ferretness? He is still the git who lived, and he is drooling. Draco Lucius Abraxas Cygnus Malfoy, overcome this ridiculous crush and stop these silly histrionics!_

He padded over to the other side of the box and touched the intarsia at the three spots that needed to be touched by him. He had not made it possible for anybody to open the box with normal means, but he was not sure if his father could not overpower the charm with dark magic, having a related magical signature. Anyway, it was no longer relevant. Draco was a ferret now. 

When the box was open, Draco padded into his dog bed to mime the sleeping ferret, but he eventually really did fall asleep.

ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Harry woke up with a headache. It looked as if he had really been sitting at the table most of the night, at least when he was too weary to pace the floor. Maybe it was time to find out if Malfoy had still been friends with the other Slytherins of their year, Goyle, Parkinson, Nott, Bulstrode and that girl who had hardly talked, what was her name again? Dana Green, no, Daphne Greengrass.

_Stop! The – the box… it’s open. Did I touch it in my sleep? Did I do the right thing while I was dreaming? I will never know what I did. Even if Draco Ferret saw it, nobody has ever looked at an animal’s Pensieve memories._

Inside the box, there were eight shrunken books. He levitated them out and cast a detection charm. The books were muggle diaries. Thank Merlin, they were muggle. He had never overcome the discomfort at looking at magical diaries since Second year, and every time he had come across a magical diary, he had afterwards felt like scrubbing his hands raw. Harry took the diaries out, unshrank them and started reading.

> July 28th, 1998
> 
> Keeping a diary is freedom. And I am free, with a few restrictions, but still, I never hoped for this level of freedom. Keeping a diary is even the smallest of the freedoms I have now. Until this morning, I expected Azkaban, perhaps even the Kiss. But only Father has been sentenced to three years in Azkaban, followed by seven years of house arrest except for a community service that will be assigned to him after his Azkaban term. His ten years are a mild sentence, too. And he has to pay a high reparations sum from his personal vault, while the Malfoy fortune will be inaccessible for him for the rest of his life, giving him the status of a welfare recipient. But he will see the blue sky again, and keep a functional mind, that is more than we expected for him.
> 
> Mother will be under house arrest for three years; a third of her personal vault goes into reparations, leaving her the possibilities of a lower middle-class person for a lifetime, but every Galleon she gives into Father’s hands will be Apparated into the purse of a random person who was injured or orphaned by Death Eaters, and any item she wants to give to Father as a gift has to be approved by the Ministry, or it will disappear.
> 
> My own vault has a withdrawal limit upon it until my 25th birthday, the day the family fortune will also be given into my hands – provided I have proved worthy of it by not getting involved with dark magic, being a useful part of society and in the next three years attending something like single lessons in Muggle Studies. And I have to help rebuild Hogwarts and go to school for another year to obtain my NEWTS.
> 
> We owe this hopeful outcome to three people. Father’s sentence was reduced due to a written testimony of the late Professor Severus Snape, who got a lot of information he passed on to Dumbledore from Father. While Father was no spy, and just too gossipy at times, Professor Snape made sure Father had sheer dumb luck, being stripped of all opportunity to ever do similar things again but having hope to sit outside and look at the sunset again.
> 
> Professor McGonagall spoke for all accused Slytherin students, stating that Hogwarts has failed us, abandoning us to the schemings of our parents who served the “Dark Lord.” She came up with the suggestion that we should be required to finish our education, and to get to know Muggle culture.
> 
> Then Potter spoke up. I had expected him to demand an Azkaban sentence for Pansy and me, or reparations from my personal vault, but he gave a report of events he thought should be considered in my favor. He stated that he had noticed my eyes being glassy when I broke his nose in the Hogwarts express. He described how he saw me losing weight and looking more and more distressed in sixth year. He was there when I lowered my wand, because I could not kill Dumbledore, telling them that he was sure, if Snape had not killed Dumbledore I would have surrendered at that very moment. Potter demonstrated how he was there, under his invisibility cloak, stunned until the spell wore off, able to witness, but not to act. He also told them that he had seen recognition on my face when I didn’t identify him at the Manor, and that I had given him my wand to defeat Voldemort. He told them how Mother lied to Voldemort, and saved Potter’s life by doing so.
> 
> And when we left the court, he walked up to me and handed me my wand. “See you at Hogwarts,” he said. Now I owe him two life debts. Maybe one can be balanced by him owing my mother one, but the other… What was his agenda when he spoke for me? We have always been enemies. One doesn’t speak up for their enemy like that. He wanted us to be enemies in first year, when I had wanted to be friends. How do I deal with that?

  
“What an idiotic thought. I didn’t want to be Malfoy’s enemy. I wanted to be loyal to the first friend I ever had in my whole life. If Malfoy had offered me friendship without insulting Ron, I would have gladly accepted. Maybe I would even have accepted being in Slytherin.”

But from that point on they had been rivals. After the bathroom incident, Harry refused to see Draco Malfoy in any way as an enemy. After all, he had first-hand experience with what an enemy was like, and Malfoy was in no way like Voldemort. Malfoy had been a boy like him, drawn into a war by abusive grownups.

> Today I return to Hogwarts. The train is almost empty, only we are there. Greg, whose eyes are red, and who is a shadow of his former self, Pansy, who will be on house arrest during the holidays, Theo, Blaise, a few sixth years and I. Vince is no more. Some people said that volunteers are to come in three days, but I don’t know. The journey is nothing like the former journeys to Hogwarts. There are no sweets on the trolley, and nobody is cheerful. Greg, Theo, Pansy and Blaise try to ease their worries by playing Exploding Snap, but without success.
> 
> In the distance I see the castle, it looks like a ruin, I wonder if it looks now like the Muggles see it. This place was my home; in the last few years it was my home more than the Manor, and I contributed to its destruction. We destroyed the place that was home. We destroyed our integrity, and the well-being of many people.  
>  Today I am so ashamed of my father and of myself.

  
Reading this entry, Harry wanted to comfort Malfoy. He wanted to tell him things would get better, that he had all the chances in his life to make good for the damage he had contributed to, and that it was far more his father’s fault than his. He wanted to tell Malfoy that he had a hopeful future, but how hopeful was Malfoy’s future, and why had he disappeared in the first place?  
Harry sighed, and rested his head on his arms. Draco, the ferret approached and nuzzled Harry’s shoulder. Harry opened his arms and hugged him carefully. He wished Malfoy was there.

ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

The next day, Draco heard that Potter had an appointment with Pansy. This time, he would not let Potter go alone, even though he didn’t have to fear that Pansy would want an affair with Potter. He wanted to know what Pansy would reveal about him. He wanted to interfere if she revealed anything he didn’t want Potter to know. He could find a way of creating a distraction. When Potter got ready to go, Draco threw a tantrum of hissing and whimpering, until Kreacher gave Harry a stern look and said: “Master Harry, you can’t be leaving Ferret Master Draco here if he is being like this. Ferret Master Draco is needing the reassurance of Master Harry. You are being his … “

“Kreacher, I can’t just take a ferret to Parkinson’s home, what if he wreaks havoc? I’m there as an Auror, not as a zookeeper.”  
Draco hissed _‘How will Pansy know YOU are not going to wreak havoc, asinine Gryffindor. I was not raised in a barn. But maybe you were._  
“You cannot be leaving him here, he is needing you. He will behave.”  
“Draco, don’t embarrass me.”

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

When Harry arrived with Draco, who sat quietly in the pocket of his Auror Robes beside the emergency Dittany and the bezoar, which were the things least damageable by active ferret paws - Harry had made sure the St. Mungo’s-Portkey was in the other pocket. He stood for a moment in front of the gate without knocking. Parkinson Hall was significantly smaller than Malfoy Manor, but the family was still obviously rich, and the gardens were in spectacular condition. Research had shown that the Parkinsons’ fortune had been diminished after reparations, that they had to give up their other houses, but the upkeep of Parkinson Hall was never in much doubt. Also, Hector Parkinson, Pansy’s childless widowed uncle who had taken over the family business after Pansy’s father, Fitzpatrick Parkinson, had been taken to Azkaban, had a very good hand for investments and obviously taught his niece well.

Harry just wanted to knock, as he saw Pansy Parkinson approach on a garden path leading to a group of trees. She was dressed in a stylish version of Muggle sportswear, emphasizing leisure, but also wealth, as he knew from months of Auror partnership with Morag McDougal. Morag had given him endless lectures about the social significance of different outfits, also trying to persuade him to dress according to his Gringotts vault, which he didn’t want to do. He dressed better than in his Hogwarts years, but he couldn’t care less about brand names and representative outfits. What he put on had to be comfortable and practical, and it wouldn’t hurt to look good in it. Whether an outfit was Armani or Burton’s was insignificant. If wizarding robes were not explicitly demanded, he liked to wear Muggle outfits with a small addition of a wand pocket.

Parkinson had come close enough to talk without raising her voice. “Welcome to Parkinson Hall, Potter. Nonny will serve us tea on the verandah, if that is okay for you.”

Harry nodded with an uncomfortable smile.

They walked to the verandah, and Parkinson chattered about the architecture and horticulture of Parkinson Hall, as if he was a tourist on a Stately homes tour. Harry suspected that she tried to appease him because she herself was a bit afraid.

When they were seated under a sunscreen, an elf dressed in a fancy livery asked Harry whether he would prefer black tea or green tea. When Harry asked for green tea, she brought nine tea boxes and asked him to pick one, apologizing that all the teas were Muggle. “Mistress Pansy can’t be getting a good wizarding tea anywhere in England these days, except at the Blue Chrysanthemum. And they are importing it from France.”

Harry had no idea what a wizarding tea was, and how it could be different from Muggle teas. When the elf had retreated into the house, Harry took a deep breath and said: “So, about Draco Malfoy. You are still friends?”

“Why, of course, we are. Just three weeks before his disappearance, he kipped on my sofa for a full week, and I can’t comprehend why he didn’t do that this time. We will not rat him out to his mother. But maybe he is away against his will, which makes me wonder why he didn’t use his two-way mirror. I would have known and not worried.” She spoke fast, and her voice had the slight shrillness that revealed being more upset than she wanted to show. When the elf returned with the tea, she clutched her clutch with white knuckles. “Something is really wrong. I know he is alive, because in seventh year, when we knew we all would be in that war, I charmed a bracelet with beads for my friends, to show me if one of us was in mortal danger, or even dead.”

She showed Harry a bracelet on her left hand with stones in different colors. “This stone here is for Millicent.” She pointed at a garnet. “This for Greg,” (a tiger’s-eye). This for Vince. It once was a rose quartz. When he died the stone was transfigured.” It was an ordinary small pebble. “This is for Blaise,” (an obsidian), “the two ambers are for the Greengrass sisters, this is for Theodore” (a banded agate.) “And this, the most precious one of them for my very best friend, a real emerald, is for Draco. When Draco, Greg and Vince were surrounded by the fiendfyre, their stones dropped a tear-like liquid. Draco’s and Greg’s turned back to their former self, while Vince’s was transfigured into a normal pebble the moment of his death. I know Draco’s life is not and was not in danger when he disappeared, but still, I can’t imagine him disappearing without a goodbye.”

When Pansy fell silent, Harry felt his pocket stir. Until now the ferret had remained motionless, except for his deep breathing, and Harry had assumed that he might be asleep, but now he moved a little, then peeked out of the pocket. Harry cast a wandless,wordless _notice-me-not_ at Draco. How could he explain to Parkinson what he called his ferret? Because no matter what he used to think of her, this was inappropriate, and only because he could not tell his stubborn old elf no.

“Did Draco have a pet?” Where did this odd question come from? And especially, what would Parkinson think about it?  
“He sometimes talked about getting one to annoy his parents. But as far as I know, he didn’t get one. But his parents would surely know about that. I wish I had given him a crup for his last birthday. They can find people faster than Aurors. I don’t want to belittle your work, …” She looked sheepish.

“… but I don’t have a magical dog nose. And I think, the best thing would be an Auror and a crup.” Harry gave her a smile.

A wet nose touched the wrist of his hand that held the teacup. Then Draco, the ferret, strutted. He strutted over to Pansy and nudged her wrist with his nose.

“Waah, what’s that?” Pansy called out.

“I’m – I’m so sorry. _Finite Incantatem._ Sorry. I was afraid of explaining him to you.”

Pansy burst out in laughter. “A ferret! You carry a ferret with you and have no explanation for that? I’m sure he didn’t just transfigure himself from a handkerchief. Especially as you _Finited_ just now. You must know how he came into your pocket, and that he is a he,” she brought out between wheezes of laughter.

“I adopted him recently, and my godson named him Draco. Because he would like to know his Uncle Draco. My godson is the grandson of Andromeda Tonks née Black.” Harry fidgeted.

“Did you tell your godson the story from fourth year?” Pansy didn’t look angry or spiteful, but stern, like Hermione would look whenever Harry did something unreasonable.

“I did, but when the ferret hissed at every single other name, it was two against one.”

Parkinson chuckled: “You were defeated by a child and a small animal? The boy who lived to be a softie.” She scratched Draco behind his ear, and Draco obviously enjoyed the attention.

Harry lifted his head. “Teddy is one of the reasons why I get up every morning. I am proud of doing all I can for him to have a happy childhood. He lost enough in his life. And I want him to meet the real Draco Malfoy one day.”

“Actually, I understand you. I have a two-year-old goddaughter. Theo and Daphne’s child. And little Emma has wrapped me around her cute little fingers, too.” Parkinson brought out a picture of herself holding a girl with honey colored wavy hair.

“I’m glad we have peace and can allow ourselves to be soft. Another question: You said Draco kipped on your sofa three weeks before his disappearance. What was the reason?”

“He didn’t want to get married. I could tell you more, but I don’t want this to be in any protocol.” Pansy gave him a cool look. “I would need an assurance that you keep your mouth shut.”

Harry took a deep breath. These Slytherins always required an insurance. “I’m bisexual with a lop-side towards blokes. If I tell anyone who should not know, you can take it to Rita Skeeter. She would have a field day.”

“Draco is gay. He doesn’t want to marry any woman. At the beginning of sixth year, we tried to have sex. It was a disaster; he couldn’t do it at all.” Pansy whispered. Then Draco, the ferret, hissed at her.

“Looking back, I’m glad it didn’t function, because later I had sex with another man and it was awful. Men are not what I want. But if we were in the old days, we would have faked it together.”

“Thank Merlin, we are no longer in the old days. If you ever marry a woman, I would be proud to congratulate you.”

“You would do that, after what I did?” Pansy’s eyes were big.

“It was long ago, and we all were frightened teenagers,” Harry said reassuringly. Draco, the ferret, nuzzled the inside of his elbow. “Maybe we could, as a sign that we are overcoming the bad old times, be on first-name terms from now on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is taken from the song "This War Is Over" by Melissa Etheridge.


	4. Matters Of The Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of us have seen what a ferret looks like, but are not familiar with the behavior, needs and communication of ferrets. When Draco dooks he is making happy sounds.  
> This is a link to a description of the sounds a ferret makes and what they mean:  
> [ ferret vocalization](https://www.drsfostersmith.com/pic/article.cfm?articleid=2407)  
> A youtube video on ferret care featuring some magical creatures ;-D:  
> [ here ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fB_aCv8bYU8)
> 
> A cute video of a ferret doing the Weasel War Dance (that's really a technical term):  
> [ here ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4M75UGUK5A)

Draco’s POV  
An upbeat song was playing on the wireless this afternoon, “Can’t Get Me Down” by the Glamours, and Potter was singing along, tapping the beat with the spatula on the edge of the workstation. He waited for his lunch, potatoes from the day before, to be fried. Draco watched him from his place at the table. Seeing Potter relaxed and cheerful and making a few dancing moves with his handsome body was one of the benefits of being a ferret.

Today was a public holiday, and they had just returned from a pick-up game of Quidditch at the Burrow. The only obnoxious thing about the many Weasleys that had been around had been their ginger hair, and that was not exactly their fault. Significant others and friends had joined them to complete two teams, although with Ginevra playing against the Kestrels this evening, Potter had had a boring job. Lee Jordan had not been on the Quidditch team at Hogwarts, and as everyone else had their position, only the second seeker remained.

Draco had still enjoyed flying with Potter; he had sat in his enlarged hoodie pocket, for which Harry had had to endure a few pregnancy jokes. Peeking out, with the wind rushing around his nose was the first time he thought being a ferret might have its advantages.  
When Potter had circled the pitch, looking out, he had talked to Draco, pointing out landmarks, asking him if he felt alright. If he had known how used to flying he was… Draco had dooked a few times and tried to show Potter that he felt alright. Potter had relaxed once he realized that Ferret Draco enjoyed flying. “So much like Malfoy,” Potter had said in an amazed tone. _Small wonder, I AM Malfoy._

He had been sad when Harry had caught the snitch, after the third chance to catch it, (it had been agreed so with Lee), and they had to land. Flying with Potter without being in danger of death was something awesome. Hearing his heartbeat while getting windswept and pursuing the snitch… was almost as sweet as flying in human form and brushing arms against each other as they both would reach for the snitch.

After the Quidditch match, they had pumpkin juice on a group of garden benches, and Draco had a nap. When he woke up, King Weasley sat beside Potter. “I told you, you have to have fun once in a while, too. You won’t find Malfoy faster if you mope. If I didn’t know how you got your ferret, I would think you need a ferret face in your life to manage. I mean I would investigate his disappearance, too, if I was still technically an Auror, but you seem to have only two things on your mind if we don’t coax you out of your snail house: Malfoy and that four-legged ferret.”

“That’s not true. I take Teddy every Friday, so Andromeda can have an afternoon off, and after Sunday brunch the three of us visit her, or she comes with Teddy to the Burrow, and I look after him.” Harry complained.

“Still not much to keep you from moping. You avoid adult company, unless if it is to question people about Malfoy. You are young, you should be going out, maybe find someone to date,” Weasel King admonished Potter.

_Don’t go on dates, Potter. I won’t tolerate just any obnoxious wanker around you with their awful fingers all over your stupid hair. Wait, what? Why am I bothered by who touches that bird’s nest on your head? Just a reminder: It’s asinine._

“Draco, what’s wrong? You hiss as if you wanted to turn into a snake. Calm down, dear.” Harry scratched Draco’s ears and Draco felt himself relaxing under these ministrations. Potter’s fingers seemed to have a magic quality and he melted into the touch, wondering if his brain got addled by them, because he wanted Potter to stroke his stomach.

“Ron, you know that I don’t want to go on dates. They all just seem to see the Boy Who Lived and not me. They just want a hero, not a person who is just as vulnerable as they are. I won’t think of dating unless someone convinces me that my fame doesn’t impress them one bit. And concerning unimpressed: Apart from you and your siblings, Hermione, Luna and Neville, the only person I ever met who was unimpressed by my fame may look absolutely shaggable, but he hates me.” Potter said wearily.

“And who would that be? I mean, I know someone who always argued with you and was completely unimpressed, but shaggable? I may not be the person to judge the shagability of anybody, but I didn’t really think the pointy git could be someone you would shag?” Weasel King was visibly shocked.

“I would not, because I don’t want to shag someone who hates me. I guess, if I really get too eager, I’ll pull at a Muggle bar, but so far, I’m not that desperate. I want someone to be part of my life. The one-off phase has been over a year ago. Anyway, since when are you interested in questions of dating? Since it didn’t work out with Hermione, you have been the one who always kept telling me he doesn’t need sex in his life, and his friends’ drama was enough for him, he didn’t need any of his own?” 

So, the Weasel King didn’t care much about sex? Draco had expected him to be eager to beget a Quidditch team of Weasel princes and princesses.

“Ron, I have an idea! This will be the best Wheeze since you started helping me! We have to go to our lab at once!” Twin Weasel shouted from somewhere.

Weasel King sighed. “So far for having a full day off. But it’s still better than being an Auror, and also running a shop on Diagon Alley has its advantages. But we will make it to the Harpies’ game.” He Disapparated, and the second crack of Disapparation from Twin Weasel followed

Potter picked up a parcel that Weasel King had left on the ground, told the other Weasels and Lee Jordan goodbye, and they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place to start preparing their lunch.

Who was that pointy git? Draco was sure he didn’t want him anywhere around Potter. Wait, what? Where did that thought come from? Anyway, Potter was not dating anybody, as far as Draco could see. And as long as he was around he would bite away anybody trying to get into Potter’s life.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

Harry’s POV

As usual, playing Pick-up Quidditch helped Harry to feel better, at least if his mind was only on his found family, and not on being a Seeker. If he thought of it from a Seeker’s point of view, something was missing every single time, because nobody was a challenge like Malfoy. Even Ginny was rather a Chaser than a Seeker, even though she was good in both positions. But there was a reason she was not a Seeker in the Harpies’ team.

Being with the Weasleys, flying and partaking in the family banter as the eighth Weasley sibling, as George would always call him, always managed to cheer him up. Although he could not forget about Malfoy while playing Quidditch, he could pretend to be training for a match against Slytherin.

Since he started reading Malfoy’s diaries last week, Harry just had to close his eyes to see Malfoy’s blond hair and his stormy grey eyes before him. Sometimes he saw him the way the Slytherin had looked in first year, with his gelled-back hair and thought about how their first encounter at Madam Malkin’s was described in the oldest of the diaries:

> I met Harry Potter today and didn’t notice it until I was leaving Madam Malkin’s shop. He was wearing obnoxiously old clothes, and his hair looked like a bird’s nest, but there was something about him that made me feel like running off and going on adventures with him. He had an expression on his face like the kidnapped son of Margaret the Misfortunate when his sister Phyllis brought him back home and revealed to him that he was the heir of the noble house of Abbott.
> 
> His eyes were shining, and he was looking around as if he had to pinch himself to know it wasn’t just a beautiful dream. I didn’t even care if the boy was a halfblood or mudblood, I wanted to know him, see him in a Hogwarts uniform and a Slytherin tie, and wanted to invite him to the Manor and show him the picture of the Uncle-we-don’t-talk-about, who always makes me laugh.
> 
> Only when I left the shop, Madam Malkin called him by his name. It will be difficult to invite him to the Manor. He is the famous Harry Potter and Father wants the Dark Lord to come back. He believes that the Dark Lord has a horcrux and can return. But I mustn’t tell people. If it is true that one has to kill someone to make a horcrux, I’m not sure I want the Dark Lord to return.

  
Harry had copied this entry and kept reading it. Their first encounter. He was fascinated by the description. Malfoy had really thought of becoming his friend and of sharing a secret with him. He still agreed with his refusal to accept Malfoy’s snobbery, but it still was a good feeling. What would have been if he had found a way of befriending both Ron and Malfoy? Would he have been able to prevent some of the events of sixth year? And in what house would he have been if both had been his friends? Before reading this, Harry had never thought that Malfoy had wanted his friendship. He had assumed that Malfoy’s intention was to snatch friends from Ron to make them part of his following.

Sometimes Harry saw Malfoy as he had looked on the last picture that had been taken of him as he graduated from apprenticeship, together with two others who were also now full-fledged potioneers. He stood at the edge of the picture with a shy smile that didn’t reach his melancholic eyes. And Harry had noticed when he saw this picture for the first time, that he had never seen pure joy in Malfoy’s eyes.

How would a happy Malfoy look? A Malfoy laughing at a joke without questioning what his father or whoever thinks of it? A Malfoy who hears a child saying something cute? A Malfoy sitting by the fire with his love and drinking hot chocolate? Would Malfoy’s eyes look like Sirius’ eyes whenever he had looked at Remus? Because the features of Malfoy’s face were not so much Malfoy family features as Black features in Malfoy blond.

“Harry, you have given Lee enough time to look for the Snitch alone, you can start looking for it now.” That was George. With a “Sorry, mate,” he started looking for the snitch. He did his best to focus on the game now.

Playing was fun as usual. After the game, Ron approached him with a smile. “Viktor Krum comes to our shop every day. He doesn’t buy anything but discusses all kinds of things with me. It’s enjoyable, but also weird. He is rich, he should have his employees do his shopping in Diagon Alley being the owner of Nimbus after his step-uncle’s death. And what brings him to the Wheezes without buying anything?”

“Since when has he been coming every day?” Harry inquired.

“Since the Charity game last October. You know, when Hermione and I had made our amicable breakup official. I always expect him to ask me if it’s okay if he dates Hermione. If he did, I would say it’s okay, but ...” Ron looked at the sky, as if he was looking for an answer there.  
“Nah, if you don’t count that platonic Yule Ball date, Viktor has never shown any special interest in Hermione or any other woman, and at the Yule Ball he had just ranted about Durmstrang heteronormativity and that he would be expelled if he went with his boyfriend.” Harry smiled reassuringly at Ron.

“You think he wants to get a good look at George?” Ron asked, clearly still considering himself the least attractive Weasley.

“Ron, if for example, I told you someone came every day to my work, having nothing else to do there but to have a chat with me, who would you assume the person wants to see?” Harry put a hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“You. But you’re attractive, the famous Harry Potter. You’re a hero.”

“And what are you? Who destroyed the Locket? Who stood on a broken leg to protect me from someone he thought was a mass murderer? Ron, you are as much a hero as Hermione and I. Never forget that. I would not have defeated Voldemort without you. George would have probably committed suicide if you had not been there for him after Fred’s death. The devil’s snare would have killed us in first year if you had not reminded Hermione of her magic. Ron, I don’t know if Viktor is looking for a boyfriend or a friend, but what he is seeking, he’s seeking in you, nobody else. You like him, don’t you?”

They talked about other things, like the replacement of the WonderWitch line with three less problematic product lines for which they still needed gender neutral names that could appeal to all kinds of people who wanted to do something special with a consenting adult or indulge in a mature kind of daydream on their own. The products were ready and tested, and the names were the only thing delaying the launching. While Ron’s part had been to think of the more romantic things, or to brainstorm with different friends and relatives, George had invested a lot of time and effort in developing the more sexual charms. But anything of the new product lines only activated if there was consent and if the consent was revoked, it all would stop immediately.

When their conversation shifted to Harry’s lack of a love life, which seemed to bother Ron, because a year ago Harry had frequented Muggle clubs and then stopped when it simply didn’t make him feel good, Draco stirred in Harry’s pocket and demanded attention with a lot of hissing. Soon after, George coaxed Ron to go to Wheezes, and Harry decided to Apparate home because he had the feeling Draco needed some calm before they would go to the Harpies match in the evening.

Harry felt more cheerful than he had in quite a while when he was cooking lunch. But suddenly Draco started whimpering. Bloody hell, I hope I didn’t make him sick by flying with him. Why am I such a Gryffindor who never looks before he jumps? What should I do? Luna, no, Luna is in Brazil on a magizoological expedition. Who else might know what to do? … Hagrid!

Harry turned off the stove, Accioed his hoodie, put Draco into the hoodie pocket, and Flooed to Hagrid’s hut, which had finally been connected to the Floo Network.

“Harry, I didn' expect yer visit. I haven' even baked Rock cake. Still, it's great to see yeh,” Hagrid exclaimed, as he pushed an excited Fang away from the Floo, so Harry could step out of it.  
Harry vanished the soot and patted Fang’s head. “I have a little problem. I adopted a ferret, and this morning I took him with me as I went flying. When I was cooking our lunch, he started whimpering.” He brought Draco out of his pocket and carefully handed him to Hagrid.

“Beautiful little feller. But his smell is off, like his former owners tampered with it to be more comfortable fer the human nose. Not good. Yeh won' be able to socialize him. And fer a lack o' ferret company, yeh will need an awful lot o' human company to keep him from becomin' depressed.” Hagrid ran a scan with his pink umbrella like a healer at St. Mungo’s would have done for a human being with their wand. “He is healthy, jus' his heart beats a bit too fast, like he is upset. How did he act in the air?” He put Draco on the table, and the ferret immediately went to Harry, who started scratching his ears.

“He was peeking out of my pocket and kept dooking as if he loved flying.” Harry replied.

“Don' worry, ferrets will show yeh if they don' like what yeh do with 'em. I even think yeh did him a favor by not leavin' him alone at home. I can see he is very attached to yeh. What’s his name?”

Harry looked down. “Draco. Teddy named him.”

“Take good care o' him. I wonder how Draco Malfoy would've been if someone he trusted had taken better care o' him. After the war he came to me to apologize. I think he still has the potential to become a good man. If wherever he is he finds the kind o' people who help him become what he is meant to be.” Hagrid emptied a bottle of pumpkin juice in two huge cups, then fetched a saucer and filled it with water for Draco.

“He eats and drinks at the table. As posh as his namesake.” Harry shrugged. “And I kind of like that.”

“Yeh miss him, huh?”

Harry nodded.

“He always wanted to impress yeh, but could not do so in a friendly way. I think there was some attraction behind all tha' rivallin'.”

“I can’t deny that he is extremely good-looking, but his respect for others… he had zero respect for anybody who didn’t fit into his worldview then.”

Hagrid nodded. “He had learned tha' way o' thinking from his parents. But last time I saw him, he seemed to have overcome some o' his parents' flaws. He can become a better man than his father if he tries. I used to think all Slytherins were like his father, but over the last years, some Slytherins made me change my mind. Gregory Goyle has developed quite a friendship with the Thestrals. Pansy Parkinson visits me regularly. And I had completely pushed aside tha' Andromeda was in Slytherin in her school years. Minnie is right: We thought they would become like their parents an' did nothin' to win their trust an' show 'em a better way.”

They drank tea and talked, until Harry’s wand alarmed him that it was time to go to the Harpies’ game. He Flooed home, took the parcel Ron had forgotten in the morning and portkeyed into the booth at the Harpies Stadium that he had reserved for the Weasleys and friends for the season. Ron, George and Hermione were already there. Draco was taking another nap in his hoodie pocket.

“You left this behind this morning.” Harry told Ron, handing him the parcel.

Ron sighed with relief. “I already thought that I had vanished it with the rubbish. I don’t even know what and who it’s from.

He unwrapped it, to find a hand-knitted scarf that was one side Chudley Cannons and on the other side Holyhead Harpies and a parchment.

> When I hold the Snitch, the game is over.  
>  Since I found you, I hope that one day I can hold you  
>  And that it will be just the beginning.

  
The handwriting was simple but not without elegance, and the signature was not readable, but Harry could have sworn that he had seen it somewhere before.

Harry patted Ron’s shoulder. “Looks like someone is courting you, mate.”

“But why? And who? There are more courtable blokes in the wizarding world.” Ron looked flabbergasted.

“Ron, why should there not be someone who wants to court you. You are one of the best people I know. Just because we were sexually incompatible does not mean that nobody is compatible with you. Find out who it is and decide if they are worthy of your love.” Hermione chimed in.

‘I just hope it isn’t Blaise. Neville fancies Blaise, and Ron considers him too posh for comfort,’ Harry thought.


	5. drawn into your world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to use a fictional song for this chapter title. I simply couldn't come up with a song fitting enough, so this is "Drawn into your world" by Hippogriff Stampede.
> 
> "Drawn into your world  
> I get to know your friends  
> and suddenly I understand  
> they are what I needed  
> so you can be the one you are.
> 
> Drawn into your world  
> I get to love you more.  
> And suddenly obnoxious peeps  
> can feel like home to me."
> 
>  
> 
> And thank you to my amazing and encouraging beta reader keyflight790

Harry and Draco had just sat down for breakfast - Harry had a fruit salad and porridge, while Draco ate pheasant-flavored ferret food – when the Floo roared in the sitting room. Steps proved that it was someone whom the wards accepted as part of the family.

“I’m in the kitchen.” Harry exclaimed. Only Andromeda, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna were authorized to step directly through.

“Harry, Harry, the mysterious person sent me a gift again. What should I do?” Ron’s voice sounded insecure and a bit breathless.

“Ron, calm down. Someone has feelings for you. You can find out who it is and then decide whether to accept or reject the courtship.”

“But why would they – why me?” Ron blushed and sat down between Harry and Draco.

“I don’t know who they are, so I can’t tell you what you do for them. I can just tell you why I think you are the best adoptive brother, and why I think you deserve the best spouse possible: Firstly, you adopted me long before your parents thought of it. Secondly, you faced your worst fear to help me. Thirdly, you are even supportive if it is hard for you. Fourthly, you stayed one of Hermione’s two closest friends when she broke up with you. You keep my secrets, you sent me food when the Dursleys starved me. You even took Fred and George and the Ford Anglia to rescue me from the Dursleys’ house. You threatened to incarcerous me and drag me to the mind healer when my PTSD acted up after the Battle of Hogwarts and I harmed myself. I don’t even know how many times you saved my life.”

“I would feel better if I knew who they are. I – Probably, then, I would tell them to keep their gifts to themselves, but I don’t want to start dreaming. It's probably the wrong person.” Ron fidgeted.

“Start dreaming? Is there someone you would like it to be?” Harry wordlessly summoned a cup and a bowl and gave Ron fruit salad and tea.

“Well, I think, but that’s silly. He may like talking to me as a friend, but he has so many other opportunities. Why would he choose me?”

“Ron. It’s okay to fancy someone whether they fancy you back or not. Whom do you fancy?” Harry put his hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“Vik -Viktor – Krum.” Ron looked down.

“Maybe we can figure out who it is by looking at the gift. What did they send you?”

“I – didn’t – open – it – yet.” Ron murmured.

“I’m here with you. You could open it here with me?” Harry replied with an encouraging smile.  


Draco stood up, placed one paw on Ron’s arm, sniffed at the parcel, and dooked.  


Ron, Draco wants to encourage you, too.” Harry chuckled.  


With slightly shaky hands, Ron opened the parcel. It contained a pair of cufflinks with rubies on them shaping a W and a card.  


> “Come today at 11 o’clock to Etienne Zabini’s to be measured for matching dress robes. You deserve the best, instead of the things you were wearing as a teenager.”  
> 

  
“Zabini. It must be Zabini. I don’t like Zabini. Nothing against him, he seems to be a decent bloke, but all his posh attitude, like he wants to out-posh Malfoy. I wish he fancied Neville, because Neville – it’s so obvious Neville fancies him.”  


“Well, it’s possible that it’s Zabini, but so far we don’t know. Etienne Zabini’s is not quite an unknown designer. Actually, anyone with enough money in their vaults and a longing to see you in expensive dressrobes could send you this. Zabini might get a discount from his uncle, but all we know for sure now is that the person courting you is rich.”  


“As if I cared about the size of their vault!” Ron exclaimed.  


“Calm down, it’s a factor that excludes Zacharias Smith from the list of suspects. As I heard, he gambled away all his money.” Harry tried to appease him. Being courted was supposed to be a reason for joy, but it made Ron very irritable.  


“Thank Merlin for small mercies. Still, as long as I can’t read the signature, I can’t like it. I should tell the person no before they spend more money on me unless they happen to be Viktor Krum. I’d better not go there.” Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets, got up and paced the floor.  


“Ron, calm down, remember your Auror training.” Harry followed him and put a hand on his shoulder. Ron stopped pacing, but started fidgeting with his hands in his pockets, making ringing sounds. _Memo to myself, buy Ron a Muggle wallet for his Knuts._  


“What about my Auror training? Constant vigilance? Stealth? Casting an Incarcerous? Nothing of it seems useful in this situation.” Ron’s tone reminded Harry of the time they had to follow the spiders into the Forbidden Forest.  


“Ron, remember the part where we found out who did something by asking questions? If you don’t talk to Etienne Zabini, you will never find out who is courting you. So, you and I will go to your place, pick out something nice to wear and you will go there and if it is not Viktor you can tell the person to fuck off. And we do that now, because in 45 minutes you have to Apparate to Diagon Alley.” Harry reasoned.  


“Did Hermione transplant her personality into you?” Ron ranted but moved towards the Floo. Harry picked Draco up and followed him.  


(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

  
Draco sat on a soft-knitted blue cushion beside Potter in Weasel King’s room at the Burrow. The room was nothing like he had expected, apart from the one Chudley Cannons poster.  


“When I think of your room, I still think of it being all orange and Cannons. I’m still not used to it having so much blue and grey inside.” He heard Potter tell Weasel King. _So, this room had really once looked like he had imagined it._  


“Shows how little time you spent here over the last year. I know, after the breakup with Hermione, I was hanging around in your place or at the Three Broomsticks, afraid to fall into old patterns with my parents, but in the last two months you could have been around more often. You brood over Malfoy too much.”  


“Firstly I’ve been on the case for one month, secondly it’s my fucking job to ‘brood over Malfoy’ as you put it. And now let’s look at your clothes. Although I feel no more competent in appropriate style than you, perhaps even less.” Harry sighed.  


“How about this?” Weasel King pulled a pair of oversized Muggle jeans out of his wardrobe. “Fashionably baggy?”  


_Perfect to scare away all of Diagon Alley. Best you skate with one of those Muggle contraptions and collide with some old witch for style!_  


“Nope, even Draco dislikes it. He’s hissing like he wants to turn into a snake. You need something more elegant; it’s a posh tailor.” Harry said.  


_Even Draco? I’ll give you even Draco! Oh, wait, he agreed with me and he scratches my ears. This feels too good to stay annoyed for long._  


“Hermione liked it on me,” Weasel King protested.  


“Yeah, when we were teenagers. Now we have reached an age in which we court or get courted,” Harry replied patiently.  


“We? Do you have any courtship plans?” Weasel King looked greedy for information.  


“Didn’t we talk about this whole thing yesterday? No, I don’t want to court or be courted for now. The we means our age group. And whom would I court? I just told you yesterday what I think of the people I could theoretically date.” Potter sounded exasperated and stopped scratching Draco’s ears.  


_Hey, Scarface, who made you think you could stop? Put your pretty hands to some good use! Wait what? Did I say pretty?_ Draco must have lost his mind over this whole being a ferret thing.  


“And what do you think of my Triwizard Tournament dressrobes?” Weasel King asked from in front of the wardrobe, reaching for a clothes hanger.  


Draco wanted to scream, thinking of the disaster Weasel King had worn at the Yule ball, but to his surprise Weasel King carried a quite average dress robe on his arm.  


“Try it on, it’s been a few years since Bill and Fleur’s wedding.” Potter suggested.  


With a sigh, Weasel King took off his sweater and unbuttoned the dress shirt.  


_Potter, look at me, I look better than that city of freckles. I may not be as gorgeous as in my human form, but the Weasels look like they want to give all the freckles of the world a home. Oh shit, I must have made a sound. Potter has that worried look on his face._  


“Are you okay, Draco? Hope you’re not sick.”  


“Dook.” _I fucking wish you were a ferret-mouth. But yes, I’m coping. Hope we get your silly friend dressed appropriately._  


“Looks like I just touched him in the wrong way. No, the sleeves are too short and it’s narrow around the chest.” Potter sounded relieved after hearing Draco’s dooking. At least he didn’t drag Draco to Hagrid again. While Draco didn’t mind Hagrid anymore, he was still afraid of Hippogriffs.  


_You may have had a good counselor when buying this, Weasel King, but it’s too long ago. Anyway, better that you don’t impress with your looks too much around Potter. Fucking Ferret-brain. Why do I fawn over Potter of all people? Just because he feeds me pheasant?_  


“So, how about this?” Weasel King asked, showing a pair of Muggle Jeans and a Muggle sports jacket.  


“Put it on. Draco isn’t hissing yet.” Potter said, showing a surprising amount of reason.  


While the jeans didn’t hug Weasel King’s arse in an overly sexy way, they were decent, and the jacket made his body shape look somewhat like Walters, the young Muggle Studies teacher they had after the war, not really hot, but good at telling interesting stories.  


“Dook!” _As good as it gets when Weasel King is the one to be outfitted. He doesn’t have the same possibilities to be hot as Potter. Salazar help me, I’m going mad._  


“Harry, could you come with me, this whole thing is scary.” Weasel King whined.  


“I don’t think it’s appropriate to go to this kind of occasion with a chaperone. Sorry, Ron.” Potter replied sternly.  


“Hermione …”  


“Hermione is working now. You know you can’t even reach an Unspeakable when they’re on duty. Plus, she would tell you to just go and find out who is courting you.”  


Ron fidgeted again. “Could you at least go with me to someplace near the shop and have an ice cream, so I can reach you fast if I need to rant?” Weasel King’s attempt at puppy dog eyes looked rather poor, but it still seemed to work on Potter.  


“Okay, I think you need a brother around. ” Potter sighed.  


They Apparated to Diagon Alley’s Apparition point and walked in the direction of Etienne Zabini’s shop. Harry had to walk past it to get to the coffee shop that belonged to Florean Fortescue’s granddaughter. As they approached Etienne Zabini’s, it was Viktor Krum standing at the shop window with a burgundy-colored rose in his hand. Potter grinned at Weasel King. “I think I don’t need to wait. But tell me tomorrow how it went.”  


With his sensitive ferret ears, Draco overheard Krum tell Weasel King “I know it’s not what they do to come to an appointment one has gifted to the person one courts, but I couldn’t wait to see how gorgeous they will make you look,” before Potter and he were out of earshot. 

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

As they arrived back at Grimmauld place, after a nice two-hours walk at Covent Garden, Hermione awaited them in their kitchen, and Harry remembered that it was time for their monthly late-afternoon tea. It stemmed from the time when Ron and Hermione had been awkward around each other after their breakup, that Ron had joined once they had settled into being just friends again.  


“Is Ron coming today, too?” Hermione asked, reaching out to let Draco sniff at her hand, as she would do with a cat, before stroking over his head. Draco accepted her ministrations but showed no sign of enjoying them as he would do every time Harry stroked him. At the first opportunity, he moved on to Harry’s lap.  


“Ron is on a date with Viktor Krum,” Harry explained.  


“So, Viktor is the mystery suitor?” Hermione inquired. “I guess Ron will be excited.”  


“Yeah, when we parted he looked like he was in seventh heaven.”  


Draco confirmed it with an enthusiastic Dook.  


Before they could continue to talk, Pansy’s owl came in through the open window and landed with a solemn To-whoo on a chair. Draco fled into Harry’s arms, and Harry asked Hermione to collect the letter and give the owl a treat, holding the frightened ferret and scratching his ears.  
The owl glared at Draco, said “To-whoo” another time and disappeared through the window again.  
Harry opened the letter and read aloud.  


> Dear Harry,  
>  I thought about Draco’s disappearance and about the different things he said and places he mentioned recently. Can I come to yours to tell you about it? As my uncle has guests today, there is no way to discuss it without the walls having ears, and casting a Muffliato would only fuel speculations.  
>  Sincerely  
>  Pansy  
> 

“You’re on first name terms with Pansy?” Hermione gave him a curious look.  


“Seems so are you, or why else would you call her Pansy?” Harry deadpanned.  


“You know the Office sport the ministry encourages? Of course, you play Quidditch, but I attend the Yoga classes, and she is the instructor. We have hardly talked; there are about 80 participants. It’s very popular. I don’t even know how she does that along with the Parkinson family business. Maybe you can invite her over now? I must admit that I’m curious. And I know that you are eager to start asking her about it. Malfoy always interested you more than most other topics.”  


Half an hour later the Floo roared, and Pansy stepped out of it, dressed in an elegant black dress with Bordeaux red and pine green patterns. Harry saw Hermione giving her a look that seemed completely untypical of Hermione, with widening eyes as she greeted her.  


“Hermione might help us. She…” Harry began, insecure of the threadbare excuse he planned to use, but Pansy interrupted him.  


“I know why Hermione can help us. Although I can’t say it, but you don’t need an excuse. I guess we both had to speak an Unbreakable Oath?”  


“Of course. That spares me a rather threadbare lie. So, what other information can you give me?”  


“He had this book about wish magic. Those wishes that always come with a kind of sacrifice for it, not a life sacrifice, but sacrificing some aspect of one’s own life that can only be restored if the wish proved to be worthy.” Pansy played with her bracelet nervously.  


“Like in the Muggle tale of the Little Mermaid, who sacrifices her voice for legs, but she died according to Andersen, when the prince still didn’t want to marry her,” Hermione gasped.  


“The book said it isn’t life-threatening. And my bracelet shows no mortal danger.” Pansy stated and explained to Hermione the secret of her bracelet.  


“But if his wish doesn’t help him become what he wanted to achieve with it, he won’t be able to return. Do you happen to know what his wish was?” Hermione asked.  


“I’m – I’m not sure. He asked himself a few questions, like, who would he be if it was not for all his parents’ rules. What he could do to make his life his own. Is there anybody who would want him for himself and not for a role he plays? No matter how much Blaise, Greg and I would tell him we cared about Draco and not the representative of the Malfoy heritage, he said it’s about someone wanting him in a closer way, like family or love, not just friends who can fuck off to their houses when he’s too difficult. As if we ever had done so. I was annoyed at him for saying so, he means as much to me as if we were siblings, same as Greg and Blaise. Only later, I understood that he was talking about parents and boyfriends.”  


Hermione gave Harry a long, serious look. “He seems to have had a similar crisis as you when you stopped dating because everyone you could be honest with about your life was just interested in the Boy Who Lived.”  


“So, you think he sacrificed something to find out who he is, and if there is somebody who loves him as he really is?” Harry asked quickly, not willing to spread his own problems before Pansy Parkinson of all people.  


“I think so. Although I only know what he told me about the book, and it’s out of print. I went to Flourish and Blotts to get a copy, and they couldn’t help me.”  


“What’s the title? It might be in the Hogwarts Library in the Restricted Section or in the DoM Library.” Hermione inquired.  
“Perseus Rosier, A Guide to Wish Magic. Published 1692 in London.” Pansy supplied.  


“So, Harry, you should have a talk with Minerva and look for it in the Restricted Section, while I check for it at the DoM. When we have found the book, I suggest we read it together. Pansy, you are an expert for Malfoy, Harry, you are the Auror in charge, and I will probably have the most understanding of the text.”  


“I agree with Hermione,” Harry answered, then added “Pansy, you didn’t drink your tea.”  


“I take my tea with milk. Otherwise, I don’t like it.”  


“Oh, sorry, why didn’t you say anything? I forgot about the milk because Hermione and I drink it without.” Harry got up to fetch the milk.  


On leaving the sitting room, he overheard Pansy telling Hermione: “In Slytherin, we always thought you and Weasley were Harry’s lackeys. And now, I see you telling him what to do.”  


“And we always thought you, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle were Malfoy’s lackeys. And that he was shagging you.”  


Pansy laughed out loud. “About the shagging part; we once tried it and both hated the experience of straight sex, but we spread the rumor that we were dating. The noseless git was too homophobic for us to take a risk. Crabbe was a lackey, Greg pretended to be Draco’s bodyguard when in reality Draco protected Greg, Blaise and I stood up to Draco more than once behind closed doors, but we all had to pretend we were all about the noseless git’s bullshit. Blaise was on thin ice because his biological father was a halfblood, and we others had to keep our heads down because we couldn’t trust our own parents not to hand us over to the Inner Circle. That fear also caused me to suggest handing Harry over. We were taught an ‘either him or me’ attitude. It still haunts me in my nightmares, and I’m disgusted by the Pansy I was then.”  


“You are not the person you were then. And it matters less who you were at 17 than who you are today.”  


Harry tore himself away from their conversation. As he returned, the two women were laughing loud at something they would not share with him.


	6. Better Version Of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my awesome beta reader @keyflight790 and to the people who helped me find titles for Potions books.

He followed Malfoy through Hogwarts. Not the restored Hogwarts as he had seen it when he had accepted Minnie’s offer to teach DADA, and not the Hogwarts that once was the only place that felt like home. It was the Hogwarts of smoking piles of rubble and residual curses, the Hogwarts where all the dead were prepared for their burials after the Battle. Harry ran as fast as he could, and Malfoy seemed to just walk, but the distance between them didn’t get smaller at all. He screamed at the top of his voice “Wait for me, Malfoy! Don’t leave me!”  
Malfoy turned his head. “I need to fulfill the sacrifice. Nobody looks at me, the real me. Everyone just sees my father’s son. I’m allowed to be a Malfoy but not Draco.”  
Harry tried to jump forward and stop him as he saw Draco approach the door to the Room of Requirement. “Draco! I want you to be Draco!” But Draco Malfoy hovered towards the flames and dissolved into green and silver sparks like a firework.

“Draaaaacooooooooo!” Harry woke up screaming. He looked around No Draco Ferret in his bed. He gradually remembered talking to Pansy and Hermione until 2 am, leaving Draco sleeping on a sofa cushion downstairs. This was the worst nightmare in the last year. He only noticed now that it was the first nightmare in about a month. Since Draco had started sleeping in his bed, he had not had one nightmare until this night.

Harry heard a little scurrying sound from the stairs. He had charmed them to offer Draco an easier way upstairs. After a short time, Draco’s cool nose made contact with Harry’s. Then the ferret retreated a bit and nuzzled his shoulder.  
He began to scratch Draco’s ears. “I had another nightmare. It was worse than my other losing-Malfoy-nightmares. He went into the burning Room of Requirement to sacrifice himself to the Magic. I think he did some daft kind of magic before he disappeared.”  
Draco screeched.  
“Yeah, that sounds quite bad. But I’m a Gryffindor, and I’m not going to give up on him. I will find him and if I search for the rest of my life. Bloody hell, usually we are said to do the daft things, the Slytherins are said to take self-preservation more seriously than anything else.” Draco looked intensely into Harry’s eyes, then yawned.

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s 4 am, we should sleep more. I’m glad you are here with me.”  
Harry dozed off rather fast.

The next time he woke up, it was eight o’ clock, and Draco licked at his cheek.  
“Good morning to you, too.”

They got up, and Harry remembered dreaming another dream of Malfoy this time, of Malfoy pinning him against a wall and whispering “I want you. Scared, Potter? Don’t you dare say ‘you wish!’”  
He didn’t remember it going on from there, but the feeling of dream-Malfoy’s eyes on him – it had felt so right. Was it possible to fall in love with an absent person, with a person one had always thought you knew but had only got to know now? He would have to talk to someone about it, but who would understand this? It was so weird. He thought he had known a lot about Malfoy, his eating habits, how he drank his tea, how to insult him best, but in reality, he had been completely clueless.

He had been attracted to Malfoy in a way that theoretically could have involved hate sex, but reading Malfoy’s diaries had changed his mind. This real Malfoy was not just a handsome git, but someone worthy of love, someone Harry wanted to make happy. If only he could see him again. And if only Malfoy didn’t hate him.

He prepared breakfast without really paying attention to his own food, serving Draco rabbit-flavored food today. “Sorry, Draco, I know you prefer pheasant, but you need a healthy diet, the woman in the pet shop said pheasant is only for every other day.”  
Draco made a face, then gave Harry an intense look and said “Dook.”

Harry thought about one special entry in Malfoy’s diary: 

> “Tomorrow is the Quidditch match, Slytherin against Gryffindor. I am proud of playing for my house, and even more proud of being the seeker. And it means I will play against Potter. It would be great to catch the Snitch just inches before his hand. Maybe he’ll even brush my hand. He looks elegant in the air on his broom. Chang and Diggory have been flying for far longer, but neither has that casual elegance. I want to win, but I want to win by a narrow margin, because he is the kind of rival that brings honor. And I want his green eyes on me, and I want him to be impressed. I’m not even sure why playing against him is so much more interesting than against Diggory or Chang.”

After breakfast, Draco nudged him toward the fireplace. “Yes, we have to Floo to Hogwarts. Come on.”  
He picked a cheerfully dooking Draco and placed him in his hoodie pocket. Then he Flooed to Minnie’s office.

“Harry, good morning, take a seat and have a biscuit, please.” Minnie poured two cups of deliciously smelling Earl Grey tea. The teapot leaked slightly, sending a few drops onto the table, and Draco looked pleadingly out of the pocket. Minnie summoned a saucer, poured some tea inside and cast a Temperaturam Descendere. “Draco, welcome. It seems you are a tea connoisseur, like your namesake. It’s hard to grasp that you are no Animagus, but I know you are not.”  
While they exchanged some small talk, Draco withdrew into Harry’s hoodie pocket and fell asleep after a short time.

“Minnie, as I wrote to you, there might be a book in the restricted section that could help us find and bring back Malfoy. Would you please give me a research permit?”

“I definitely will, but if you can, I would like to know a bit more about the development of the case.”

“We know that Malfoy read a book called ‘A Guide To Wish Magic’ by one Perseus Rosier.”

Minnie gasped. “It’s a forbidden book. It was forbidden when I was working for the Ministry. The trouble with it is that whatever you wish will cost you a price you only get back if you have someone helping you to get it back, which is extremely hard if they don’t know what you lost and don’t even know where you are.”

Harry felt a surge of panic rising. What if he never saw Malfoy again? What if Malfoy had to die wherever and however he was, because he failed to save him? _Breathe, in and out, try to breathe like Draco who is fast asleep in your pocket. Remember what your mind healers told you about fighting panic attacks. In – out – in – out – in – out…_

When Harry had gained his self-control back, he looked at Minnie and forced himself to ask: “So, did you know details about that book? Anything that could help us get Malfoy back? It means more to me than an ordinary Auror case. I think, by reading his diaries I started seeing him in a different light, and I – I think, that …”

Minnie gave him a knowing look. “Your fights were always mixed with a fascination for each other. Do you mean to say you started fancying him?”

“Well, I think so. I understand now, why I had nightmares about the Fiendfyre and him much more than about all the other traumatic memories. It’s because even when we were rivals and thought we were enemies, we kind of had a relationship of a sort, and even though he broke my nose at the beginning of sixth year, it hurt me to see him all grey and despairing. I think knowing how he really thought and felt in our Hogwarts years, it made me want to see him again, get close to him, be to him what he fantasized after our first meeting at Madam Malkin’s. I want to do whatever it takes to bring him back. And I’m well aware that he doesn’t feel the same.” Harry’s voice sounded shaky.

“The case that triggered the book to be forbidden happened right in the Ministry. Bradford Davis worked at the Department of Muggle Misinformation. He was a polite and cheerful man, until his wife died of a curse disease running in her family. The time between knowing that she was affected and her death was only one month. Davis was friendly and competent, but being a Muggleborn, they skipped him when it came to promotions. But he was ambitious, and when the job of the head of the department became vacant, he wanted to be the one to get it, as we found out reading his diary at the end. He sacrificed the memories of his wife, hoping he could overcome his grief by doing so. But the grief remained, only he forgot why his life seemed empty. Neither his parents, nor his also magical sister, nor the people he went to Pub night with every Friday, could get close enough to him to help him. He got the promotion and kept the job for three months in which he gradually descended into madness.” Minnie said, looking frightened and sad.

“I will do whatever it takes, and I won’t accept not seeing Malfoy again.” Harry said with determination, but at the same time fidgeting because he understood how hard it might be.

His words woke Draco up

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

“…I won’t accept not seeing Malfoy again.” Draco knew that Potter wanted to see him in his human form, but he was not sure if it was worth it. As a ferret, he could cuddle up close to Potter’s heart. Potter didn’t hate him in his animal form, and even Weasel King was no longer as obnoxious. Now that Draco was a ferret, Potter was there for him. He could even pretend that the Golden Boy was his. But in his human form, they would go back to being mere acquaintances. Everyone was happier this way. Apart from his parents who would miss their heir, that is. They could just do what reasonable people did and adopt some war orphan and have a choice of characteristics. Everyone was better off like that; nobody disturbed Blaise and Pansy by suddenly showing up at their doorsteps at the worst of times, Teddy had a cute ferret to play with whenever he visited Harry, nobody had to worry about an ex-death eater… Being an animal was the better choice.

But why did Potter sound so sad? Did solving this case mean that much to him? Perhaps it would help if he could reconstruct the event of Draco’s disappearance, and thus know no crime was committed.

Potter still talked about different things with Professor McGonagall, and she didn’t seem half as stiff and strict as Draco remembered her. Had she always had this dry sense of humor?

Eventually they Flooed back to Grimmauld Place, where Harry fed Draco an egg, before they Apparated to the Ministry canteen to meet Granger. She had reserved a place in a corner and fetched Falafel with salad for both, and as dessert for her, cherry pie and for him, treacle tart.

“I doubt you found anything at Hogwarts. Have you?” She inquired, forgetting the greeting over the riddle they had to solve. “No. Minnie knew about the book and it’s forbidden. I don’t know whether to be relieved that they didn’t have it there, or disappointed that I didn’t get it into my hands. After all, remember how much we sneaked around in the restricted section? It would be no good to have such a dangerous book there. But it feels horrible not to know what happened to Malfoy, and I just have a terrible suspicion that he lost himself somewhere.” He sighed.

“We know he isn’t in mortal danger, but he might be like a living ghost for all we know. I wouldn’t even know how to tell his parents that. It makes me even feel sorry for Lucius Malfoy.”

Father might care about his heir, his ticket to the permanence of the Malfoy name, but if he knew the truth about me he would rather say good riddance. And I’m not sure how much Mother is missing me or the fact that I'm her only heir.

“Draco, did I hurt you? Calm down, dear, let me examine you.” He brought out his wand and cast a diagnosing charm. “No injury. Come on, don’t spook, darling. I’m sorry.”

_Darling. It sounds sweet to hear such a word from Potter. But he would never be so nice to me if I were still a human being. If only I could send a message to them that I’m better off now. Potter is so good at scratching my ears, and he smells so perfect._

“Whatever just made him spook, he calms down so easily with you. If I remember Crookshanks when he was younger, it was so much more complicated to calm him whenever he was spooked.”

“Yes, I remember him almost running up the walls at the common room. At least he got calmer in his old age.” Potter laughed.

“Draco trusts you so much, and he seems to understand everything even better than Hedwig used to.” Granger pet Draco’s back. He tolerated the touch. It was okay, like a hug from a distant relative who was known to be a hugger, some people were simply animal petters, but Potter’s touch was a completely different thing; it felt awesome.

“I assume you also didn’t find the book in the DoM?” Potter picked up the discussion they had come here for, shoving his falafel from one side of the plate to the other. _Potter, eat something! I don’t care about your table manners for now but eat. I need you to stay healthy._ “No, it’s not there. But have Smith and Harper searched his room for it?” Granger turned to her cake and took a forkful. Draco had never been aware that Granger, unlike her male friends, had impeccable table manners. Yet, watching food disappear in her mouth wasn’t half as nice as watching it disappear in Potter’s mouth.

How could he tell Potter to eat? _Arghh, Golden Boy, you can’t be too asinine to know what to do with that food. I know my human form would not reject that. Come on, one forkful for Mo- for Weasel Senior, one forkful for She-Weasel Senior… what do I have to do, make Hogwarts Express noises for him to get that spoon in his mouth?_ “Harry, I know it’s frustrating, but please, eat. You don’t want to get all scrawny again.” Thank Merlin that Granger was reasonable.

Potter gave her a sheepish look and started eating as if the delicious-looking food was burnt spinach with liver. Even when it came to the treacle tart, he made a face. _Potter! Treacle tart! I still remember how you would eat Treacle Tart at Hogwarts. Mmh, delicious treacle tart. If I could hold a fork now I would feed you myself to make sure you eat it._

Finally, Potter had eaten his food up. It was a painful feeling to see him not enjoy treacle tart, when it had always been such a thing to watch whenever they had it at Hogwarts. If he was honest with himself, he liked the shape of Potter’s mouth and the color of his tongue. Was it normal for ferrets to have such weird thoughts?

The human who had the right to kiss that mouth would be so lucky, but was Potter able to choose someone good enough? Someone who would only have eyes for him, someone who would do anything for him. Because asinine or not, Potter was his human. And if even Father’s hideous peacocks deserved the best, then Draco’s human had to deserve the very best. Draco caught himself licking his lips. This obviously was not his life for things like kissing, but he knew Potter’s lips looked kissable. _Draco Lucius Abraxas Cygnus Malfoy! Forget it! Now! He would hate you again if he saw you in your human form. The only way you can be around him and have him pet you is by being a cute animal. Your human form has the Dark Mark. Never forget that. You should have run away, maybe even trusted Dumbledore, although he was an old weirdo._

“Draco, calm down dear, we’ll go outside soon.” Potter scratched his ears. At least Draco could enjoy these small niceties. He felt like cursing his father for wrecking all his chances for happiness. Nobody knew that his crime’s consequences would never get expunged. Even his father had it better. He could at least be around Mother and still stay a human being.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Harry told Hermione goodbye and walked to the Floo in the Atrium. He firecalled the Malfoys, and a house elf summoned Narcissa.  
“Oh, Auror Potter, good to hear from you. Do you have news about Draco’s whereabouts? Chief Auror Robards said you are on the case.” Narcissa Malfoy was as pale as she had been the day she had lied to Voldemort. Her face didn’t look as disgusted as it had looked during the times Harry had seen her when her husband had been a death eater, but she still looked extremely sad.

“Mrs. Malfoy, I might have found out something, but I would have to take a look at his room to be sure. Can I come through?”

“Yes, of course.” “So, Auror Potter, please, take a seat with us and inform my husband and me, if that’s okay.” She guided him to a drawing room with blue wallpaper. Lucius Malfoy sat in an armchair and read Quidditch Weekly, his snake stick leaning on a coffee table. “We have a guest, Luc.”

“Ah, Auror Potter, good afternoon.” Lucius Malfoy looked at Harry as if all the war had never happened. The git! Harry could be at good terms with Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, but Lucius Malfoy infuriated him. Draco really deserved a better father! Harry remembered another passage from his diary:

> I asked Father, what if I don’t want to marry a Pureblood woman? What if I want to travel without a wife like that great uncle Mother told me about, who stayed a bachelor all his life and traveled with his best friend?  
>  Father shouted at me that he needed me to beget an heir, and that if I wanted to become a shirtlifter, I should wait until I had two or three children, or he would personally crucio me.
> 
> I asked Theodore’s older brother when he started being interested in girls and he said at fourteen. Walter is getting married soon, and he even chose his wife himself. Luckily for him she was an Avery.

Priscilla and Walter Nott had not been death eaters, but added to the candidate list by Avery Senior. They had been clever or lucky enough to get jobs in Spain and stayed there ever since, as Harry knew from the trials and announcement that Avery was sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss.

No, these facts were not helping him against the impulse to punch Lucius Malfoy in the face. _Counting down in steps of seven. 49…42…35…_

He took a deep breath and shifted some of his attention to Draco’s warmth in his pocket. “Have you ever heard of a book called ‘A Guide To Wish Magic’ by Perseus Rosier?” He asked looking at Lucius Malfoy.

“I think I saw such a book in my library, but what does it have to do with my son?”

“What hides behind this harmless-sounding title is a self-harming kind of sacrificial magic. The book was even forbidden after a man made a sacrifice that caused him to be mad and burn down his house and endanger the neighboring house, as we have found out.”

“Lucius, I told you to find out anything illegal in our library and give it to the Ministry. Now, if Auror Potter is right, our son might be lost because of these dark things you still didn’t get rid of!” Fury sparkled in Narcissa’s eyes.

“Mrs. Malfoy. Let’s stay calm for now, we might find a way to rescue him. I will do all I can to save him. I promise you. If there is a way to do so, I will find it. I also am determined to see him again, and I will do whatever it takes.” He tried to smile at her. He owed her a life debt after all, but fuck the life debt. He would do all it takes to get Malfoy back because he himself was missing him.

Narcissa came towards him as if she wanted to hug him, but then stretched out her arm to shake his hand. How restrained she was. Molly would have hugged someone in this situation. That restraint could not be healthy.

“So, let me show you to his room. I’m so grateful for your work on this case. I’m aware that your colleagues were … less committed to finding our Draco.” She walked beside him towards a door with an elegant door knob, then opened it. “Can I leave you alone here? Lucius and I have an appointment with our healer. If you need something, call for Wolly.”

The inside of the room was brighter than what he had seen of the Manor so far. The walls were a buttery cream color with a slight golden shimmer, and the Louis Quinze wood furniture was made of cherry wood. Harry had learned quite a thing about furniture, selling some hideous pieces of Grimmauld Place’ furniture and asking questions about the items that looked decent. Sirius had chosen for his and Remus’s room Louis Quinze furniture, too. 

Draco’s bed was covered with a light blue spread with embroidered sage-colored leaves, and above the headboard someone had painted a tree that reached almost up to the plasterings. It looked very much like something Luna would paint for trauma healing. He himself had a tree in his bedroom, too. But was Luna a friend of Draco’s? How could that be?

On the bookshelves, there were four picture frames in front of the books.

_I wish I could see Malfoy sitting here in his room, greeting me with a genuine smile, like the moment I gave him back his wand. I wish we could talk like ordinary school mates do when they see each other again. I know he wouldn’t want to be around me, but I wish we could at least pass each other on the street._ Harry went to the first bookshelf and started looking at the titles. Potions books in alphabetical order, from "Amoris Potionum Remedia" to "Zauber- und Heiltränke des süddeutschen Mittelalters" (=Medieval Magical and Healing Potions from South Germany) via "Anciennes et Nouvelles Potions de Beauté", "bahasa Indonesia: Ramuan dan Kekuatan", "Moste Potente Potions" and "New International Potions Yearbook 1824 -2004", "Remèdes et Potions de Bretagne", "Tränke zum Heilen und Befähigen" (Potions to heal and enable)

After the Potions books came two shelves of classical magical, and to his surprise, Muggle literature, sorted by age, from the Gilgamesh Epos, via the Odyssey and Ovidius, Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, W.H. Auden and Housman to modern wizarding gay romances. Next were biographies, for example Circe, Aeskulapius, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Merlin, Damocles Belby, Fleamont Potter…

Coffee-table books of beautiful magical sights and rare artifacts, and finally charm books, Transfiguration books and grimoires. But even though Harry took every single book out and checked if it was the same inside as outside he could not find the book by Perseus Rosier. After the last book he sat down curled in a ball on the floor and stared. What if the book had disappeared with Malfoy? What if it was the last existing copy? _Malfoy, what have you done to yourself? I wish you could tell me where your book is. How am I supposed to save your sexy arse if you have taken the book with you to wherever you are now?_ He felt tears streaming down his face. 

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Potter’s body was trembling. Draco knew, he was supposed to hide, but he couldn’t bear to feel Potter shaking and sobbing silently without at least trying to comfort him. He climbed on Potter’s knee, put one front paw on his shoulder, and licked the tears away. Potter pulled Draco into a hug. “Oh, Draco, it’s horrible, if I don’t find this book by Perseus Rosier, I might never find out what really happened to your namesake. He might be somewhere suffering, being doomed to a half-life if I don’t find him and find a way to rescue him. I need to find him.”

_Potter, Malfoy is fine, but he doesn’t want to be Malfoy anymore. Don’t cry. Everything is as good as it can be. He is in a shape where nobody gives a fuck if he is gay, or if his father is Lucius Malfoy. Potter… now calm down._

_Is there so much pressure to solve the case, or is it because Mother lied to the noseless git for him? Potter! Come on, stop crying, no need to make a fuss about it!_

_Potter! Harry! Come on, you don’t need to cry over my case. I’ll bite everyone who puts so much pressure on you; I might even shit on their food. I’ll not have mercy on any git stressing you out. You’ll see._

_Salazar’s balls! Okay, okay. I’ll show you where the book is. But calm down._

( ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

Draco licked away Harry’s tears making little squeaking sounds. He seemed more and more desperate to calm him down, but ferret kisses were not enough; how could Harry calm down? His world was not complete without Draco Malfoy. And how could he rescue Malfoy without that fucking book?

He told Draco so, and the ferret climbed down. Harry listened to his scurrying steps on the parquet floor, then suddenly heard a low creaking. He lifted his head. It looked as if Draco was standing on the middle point of a seesaw, as the loose floorboard was swinging up and down under him.

__

Harry picked him up and placed a kiss on his head. “You are a genius, Draco. Thank you.”

__

Draco dooked and licked at Harry’s cheek while Harry lifted the floorboard and put it down beside the gap. He reached inside and brought out a bag.

__

Inside was the book by Perseus Rosier, an old yellowish-grey volume, and a new-looking red Muggle diary. Harry informed Wolly, took Draco and the two books and Flooed back home.

__

As he arrived in his study, Kreacher immediately collected his Auror robe from him. “Master Harry, Master Draco, a guest is waiting for you in the drawing room. She is asking Kreacher when you will come back for a whole hour. Kreacher is serving her tea and biscuits.” Kreacher had adopted a habit to greet Draco as if he was a human being. This astonished Harry, especially if he considered how Kreacher would always look at Seamus and Dean’s crup as if vermin had come into the house. But maybe house elves preferred unusual or very posh pets.

__

Harry hurried to his drawing room. Pansy sat elegantly on the sofa drinking tea. “Harry, sorry for just dropping in. I must go on and teach Yoga at the Ministry, but I need to know if you found the book. You know, Draco’s been like a brother to me since we were five. I still think of him as family."

__

“I always thought you guys had dated in sixth year!” Harry exclaimed.

__

Pansy answered with a smile. “That means we were successful. We wanted everyone to think so. The Dark Lord would have killed us in the most painful possible way if anyone had assumed we were anything but straight. We protected each other, that was all.” She took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something that doesn’t have to do with Draco? Is Hermione Single?”

__

“She is. After the breakup with Ron, she wanted to find herself before dating anyone again.”

__

“And her being bi isn’t just a political statement?” Pansy fidgeted with the edges of her silk scarf.

__

“No, she had quite a crush on Tonks” Harry said reassuringly. “Anyway, I think you might have a chance. Now don’t delay your class, and get to flirting with her. Good luck!”

__


	7. They're writing songs of love, but not for me

If Harry had thought after finding the book it would be easy to reconstruct what happened and how to reverse it, he had been very wrong. The Caslon font it was written in took its toll, and after an hour of reading, his eyes were exhausted. He hadn’t understood everything he read; there were lots of words he had never heard before, and words he thought he knew but that in the end turned out not to mean what he had assumed. The only thing that was clear at first reading was the sentence in the preface, that if someone wanted to reverse another person’s wish sacrifice, the person who wanted to reverse it had to figure it out all alone.

That made it impossible to ask Hermione to help him with reading it and translating it into modern vocabulary. His dyslexia acted up, the easy-reading charms were adapted to modern fonts and didn’t work well on this book. He would read and re-read, consult dictionaries and write mind-maps for about an hour at a time, then put on his hoodie, let Draco into his pocket and go flying for an hour to avoid headaches.

But still, he didn’t manage to work on the book itself for more than two hours in one day. His inability to read it faster depressed him, because he felt guilty for not being able to get on faster and the book was a very long one. He thought of Malfoy sitting somewhere, lost in the dark and waiting in vain to be rescued. Draco had to nudge him to eat, and he even threw a few hissing fits when Harry just shoveled the food from one side of the plate to the other. Nothing tasted good while Malfoy was lost somewhere out there.

On Sunday, he went to brunch at the Burrow with Draco. Molly was by now used to adding a plate for Draco, but asked every time, “Harry, when will you come over with a human plus one? You need someone to love you and be there for you, too. It’s okay for Charlie to be alone because he is aro ace and doesn’t want a partner, but you want someone, why do you stay alone?”

“Molly, I wish there was someone. But I need someone who loves me for myself and not just for killing Voldemort. Being alone is better than being with someone who wants me to solve all problems for them and be their hero 24/7. Maybe wanting to be loved even when I’m weak and vulnerable is asking too much.”

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

Potter’s resignation almost hurt Draco physically. It had never occurred to him that Potter’s fame had a dark side for him. He had always assumed that Potter would be basking in it, when in fact most of those people fawning over him were just looking for an illusion. Draco knew Potter was not the larger-than-life hero, but a man with flaws, traumata, nightmares, residue of neglect, abuse and curses. Someone who was no healthier than him.

And he wanted to be around Potter. He slowly came to terms with the fact that this feeling bubbling up in his stomach when Potter was not the hero the others were looking for had a name: love. He longed to be with Potter, to protect him, to comfort him, to make love to him. But the only way he would be allowed to be close to Potter and be there for him would be by staying a ferret. Lovemaking was not for him, even snogging was not for him. Potter would surely not want to be with the son of Lucius Malfoy. If only his father had never fallen for Voldemort’s insane promises of grandiosity!

Anger took hold of him. If he were a human now, he would yell at his father like he had never dared. And it was not only that his father could no longer crucio him. Draco himself no longer cared about his father’s approval, as he still had a little before waking up as a ferret. He had believed that Malfoys were born to impress others; to be outstanding. But this trying to achieve greatness had made him feel like a big failure because he didn’t have the chance to be more than an employed potioneer. And at that, the potioneer they would not consider when someone could become a potions master. Apprentices got away with ruining his potions if it didn’t cost too much. And if it did, they would be in trouble for wasting ingredients, never for bullying.

Draco had always liked brewing potions, Uncle Severus had taught him how to brew Pepperup at eight years; it had been a lengthy discussion between him and Mother whether he was old enough to learn it, and he had been very proud when Uncle Severus had deemed his first batch usable. Brewing had always been a satisfying activity, and at Hogwarts he had often helped Vince and Greg, and later also younger Slytherins to understand the Potions lessons. Who knows, if it had not been for the war, he could have liked to teach Potions. If only he weren’t marked! But as things were, there were only two options in his life: ex-deatheater and ferret.

“Draco! Hello, little one.” A child’s voice interrupted his moping. He greeted Teddy with a little “Dook,” and the boy carefully carried him into the garden to play. Thank Merlin, Potter had taught Teddy how to carry Draco without hurting him, and Teddy was a natural at taking care of little animals.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

“So, how are you getting on with saving Malfoy?” Ron took the seat next to Harry.

“You are right, I wouldn’t do that for Smith or not even for a random person. For them I would find someone who cares very much about them to do it. And I’m still only at the reading the book stage. That Caslon font reminds me of my pre-Hogwarts years, when I had to struggle with my dyslexia for everything I read. And the longer it takes, the more I become aware of how big my crush on Malfoy really is.” Harry ruffled his hair.

“Mate, I remember how you read in the second Charms lesson and how Flitwick taught you the Easy Reading charms. Maybe you contact him and ask him if there is a charm calibrated for old fonts?”

“I don’t know, the book says I must figure it all out on my own. And with this sacrificial magic, I think even applying an easy-reading charm might cause problems. I asked Bill about it already.” Harry shrugged.

“Malfoy owes you big time when you have rescued him.” Ron patted Harry’s shoulder.

“No, I owe his mother a life debt. Malfoy owes me just the respect he owes everybody. Another topic: How is Viktor?” Harry changed the topic, knowing very well that Ron expected him to want something in return from Malfoy, while Harry knew very well that he could never demand what he longed to get. But seeing Malfoy once in a while was worth something already.

“Today, Viktor has some negotiations to do, but next week he can join us for brunch. I still get courtship gifts every day, you won’t believe what I got yesterday. I had a letter from Noel Simmons, inviting me to watch the Cannons’ training. When I arrived there, I thought I was dreaming: Their new Quidditch robes have our logo. I sent a Patronus to George and asked him when he sponsored the Cannons, and he said he didn’t. Then Simmons noticed me and flew over. It turned out that Viktor had outfitted the Cannons for the Wheezes. It must have costed him a lot, but he just shrugged and said that the best is barely good enough for me.” Ron’s eyes were dreamy. “It’s odd, I even like sex with him.”

Harry knew what that meant. Of the three relationships Ron had had before, the two he had had while being mature fell apart because he didn’t really feel comfortable with sex. Hermione had been patient with him, but after a year and half with her sexual desires and his lack of them they came to the conclusion that they worked out far better as friends.

His relationship with Marvin Jones had lasted only three months, until Marvin had left him for someone else.

Harry was very happy for Ron. He wished he could court Malfoy, but Malfoy would only scoff and sneer if he tried. And anyway, Malfoy needed to be rescued first. If he ever got into the situation to court Malfoy or if he ever could fall in love with somebody else, that other person, how could he ever find the right things to give someone? Between his first and his eleventh birthday nobody had given him any presents, and after that, there had been so many presents to be aware of. Although Sirius, Minnie and most of all the Weasleys and Hermione had given him great presents, but he still felt insecure about giving or receiving presents. He knew if it ever came to that he would miss his parents, Sirius and Remus endlessly. They would have been able to provide him with a great sounding board and support through the process.

“Have you heard anything from Hermione this week? Last thing I heard is she fancies Parkinson.” Ron asked him, interrupting his stream of thought.

“I’m avoiding her presently, and she knows why. There is too much temptation to ask her questions. I just send her an owl with “still no news” every day, and she sends me “good luck” back.

“Mate you got it bad.” Ron looked at him with badly concealed pity.


	8. Walking On Broken Glass

It was two weeks after Potter had finished the book, only returning to some marked paragraphs and scrutinizing his notes, which was interrupted by pacing his study. Draco had napped in the dog bed, wishing Potter would finally get tired of pacing, but these days he was pacing far more than flying. And he was neither eating nor sleeping well. Draco wondered if the DMLE pressured him to solve the case soon. It must be expensive to keep an Auror on a cold case for almost three months. Draco hadn’t cared much about the owls that Potter kept receiving every day, but now he made up his mind to check out how much pressure Potter really was under.

When Potter was cooking lunch, he climbed on the desk and looked for the Ministry’s smell of parchment: old buildings and restricting charms. A different scent distracted him; something there smelled familiar\ and somewhat comforting, even though he also smelled a certain sadness in it. Following the scent, he came across a letter that lay there under a paperweight Teddy had crafted for Potter.

Draco recognized his mother’s handwriting.

> Dear Mr. Potter,  
>  I can’t thank you enough for your efforts to find my son. If it wasn’t for you, I would have lost all hope by now. I know, you keep telling us that you must find out his whereabouts on your own to be able to bring him back, but please, tell us if we can do anything to help you.  
>  I miss Draco so much, he is all my hope and all my joy…

Mother! He missed her. She would not accept having a gay son, probably. If she knew, she would personally burn him out of the family tree. But he still missed her. She had tried to make his life more bearable even in the worst of times.

This parchment smelled very much of her. He nuzzled it, then looked at her elegant handwriting again, reading how much she was missing him.

Suddenly, a sound from the door startled him.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Harry, who had an idea and wanted to retrieve a book from the shelf in his study, stopped at its threshold. He saw Draco looking at a parchment, then nuzzling it, then again looking at it as if reading it. The parchment looked like a letter; but why would a ferret be so fascinated by a letter?

Something was odd about this scene. He had to find out what it was. He took a few steps towards the desk, until he recognized what letter Draco was caressing. It was that letter from Narcissa Malfoy he had received yesterday evening. Harry went a few steps back towards the shelf, pondering. _…letter from Narcissa Malfoy… posh ferret caressing a letter from Narcissa Malfoy…_

“You are not just as posh as Malfoy, you **are** Malfoy, aren’t you?” As he spoke the words, he half doubted his own sanity.

That was until Draco darted behind the armchair with a shriek, expanding in mid-flight, changing color and shape, not in the elegant way of an Animagus. The transformation looked rather tormented and reminded Harry of Remus’s Werewolf transformation.

Then a naked Malfoy ducked behind the armchair, looking out only with his head.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

“You **are** Malfoy, aren’t you?”

As soon as these words had reached his ears, he felt a maddening pain shoot through his whole body. Suddenly, growing limbs catapulted him across the room behind the armchair. When the pain subsided, he noticed that he was naked. He ducked behind the furniture to conceal the more intimate parts of his body.

Potter stood opposite him, an open-mouthed stare on his face, completely motionless.

“Merlin’s beard, Potter, at least lend me something to wear!” Draco snarled when he was sure he had control of his voice.

“S-Sorry.” Potter trudged to the room next door and returned with a pair of joggers and a t-shirt.

“Just for the record, I was quite content with being a ferret. You didn’t need to ruin that for me.” Draco put on the clothes, then strode over to the Floo, took a handful of Floo powder, yelled “Malfoy Manor!” and flooed home. He warded the Floo as soon as he was there.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

When Harry regained his ability to think, he tried to firecall Malfoy and beg him to be on friendlier terms, but the Manor’s Floo was warded.

He felt as if all his strength was drained from him as he collapsed on the hearthrug, sobbing. All this time Malfoy had been around, had even seemed to like his company, but as soon as he had his human brain back he obviously returned to hating him.

But to him, Malfoy was no longer a handsome git, but the man he was pining for like he had never pined for anybody, and he couldn’t imagine he would ever pine for anybody like that again. Malfoy had never been his friend, and probably never would be. The contact-seeking of Malfoy’s ferret form had surely only been induced by the ferret. Just like how a wolfsbane-less Remus could be hijacked by the ravenous wolf on that night in third year.

After a long time of crying, Harry decided to talk to Ron or Hermione. At this time of the day, firecalling made no sense, but he could send a Patronus. But when he tried to conjure his Patronus, all he managed was an incorporeal Patronus, the kind that could help against dementors but not be used to send messages.

He glared daggers at the fireplace. 

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Draco arrived at the Manor, in his own study. He quickly went to change into neat clothes and walked over to his mother’s suite. He knocked, and heard a yell: “Lucius, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Mother, it’s me. I’m back.”

The door opened after a surprisingly short time and his mother pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Draco, little dragon. I missed you so much. Why did you do that? You scared us nearly to death. Where have you been?” Draco noticed that his mother looked sick, as if she had not slept properly since his disappearance.

“I didn’t know this would happen. I just wanted to make a change for better in my life. I read this book and then I sacrificed the status I was born with, thinking the Malfoy name has a bad reputation anyway. But obviously I sacrificed my status as a human being. That ferret – it was me. When Father took me away, Potter and Teddy found me.” He paused and looked into his mother’s eyes. “Aunt Andromeda’s grandson.” Draco fidgeted.

“Were you staying with Andi then? How is she? Do you think I could ask her for forgiveness?” Mother guided him to her sofa and they sat down. She called Wolly and told him to bring them Earl Grey tea and biscuits.

“I didn’t stay with Aunt Andromeda and Teddy, but I saw her once in a while, and Teddy quite a lot. He is a cute boy, six years old and a Metamorphmagus. But when he is at rest, you can see a family resemblance with us. He has our nose and eye shape, but the eye color is hazel.” Draco thought back to Teddy. Would he be disappointed that the cute ferret was now a grown man? He forced himself to continue. “Aunt Andromeda said she missed you. I think you should send her an owl.”

Draco was relieved that his mother didn’t ask again what he had wanted to achieve when he sacrificed his status.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

Harry had stared at the Floo for a solid hour, but not found the strength to firecall anybody, when the Floo flared to life. It was Blaise. “Harry, Merlin’s pants! You look like shit. What happened?”

“Draco, the ferret was Malfoy, and he hates me.” Harry said gloomily. Blaise gave him an odd look.

“What is the thing that hurts you more, your ferret being Draco or Draco being rude to you.” Blaise raised an eyebrow.

“While I researched about him, I got to know the real Malfoy, and I think I’d like to be closer to him, I might even…” Harry interrupted himself. 

“You fell in love with him? I guess a lot of people will be not in the least surprised. Even in eighth year there was a betting pool about the two of you.” Blaise chuckled.

“Okay, yes I fell in love, but he didn’t. He was just angry. I had been longing to see his handsome face again…” Harry felt a tear running down his face. Bloody hell, crying around a Slytherin! But Blaise just accioed a packet of handkerchiefs.

“It’s okay. I would cry, too if it were Nev and me. You’re not alone. We’re your friends, and we’ll help you. And the last word on the matter isn’t spoken, maybe things will still end well.”

Blaise sat with him on the sofa and listened to his crying. He supplied him with water and biscuits. When Harry had calmed down, Blaise suggested: “I think you should keep yourself busy for now. Could I persuade you to go shopping with me and help me find courtship gifts for Nev?”

“But I promised you already. Of course, I’ll help you.” Harry was grateful for Blaise’s listening to him. He felt that even if he had not, he would owe Blaise help with the courtship gifts. And it wasn’t a new thing that others were loved for themselves, and he was not.

“So, my plan is a full 12 days courtship, money doesn’t matter, I earn a lot with Accio™, and I want Nev to feel loved. We can mix traditional and modern gifts,” Blaise began while taking a notepad from his messenger bag.

“To be honest, I don’t really know much about a traditional British courtship. I know what Viktor gave Ron, but firstly Bulgarian traditions are different, and secondly I think most of it is modern.” Harry began to doubt that he could be such a good help. Neither Bill nor George had courted officially, and according to any traditional concept, Bill had planned to, but because of the war, possibilities for courtship had been limited. And Angelina had sort of courted George with books and resources for his mental recovery. It was the ideal courtship for them, but not applicable to anybody else.

Blaise grinned at him. “Don’t worry, Harry, I know all about courtships. I only don’t know enough about Neville’s habits and likings. You have spent seven years in the same dorm with him and you guys are close friends. Also, you can learn something about courtship in case you want to court someone one day. It will save you money you would otherwise spend on Madam Carmichael’s Courtship Etiquette lessons,” Blaise said with a grin.

“Those people who see me and not some hero on a pedestal are either like siblings to me or hate me. How probable is it that I will ever court someone?” Harry said glumly.

“50 percent. And the other 50 percent are that a handsome and intelligent bloke will court you. And I’m only counting 'welcome’ courtship. Remember, some people say ‘I hate you’ to their loved ones in bantering situations. And now, let’s turn to the matter at hand.” Blaise wrote Courtship Plan across the top of the notepad.

“The first gift is traditionally one to make one’s interest known. Roses are a popular first gift. If I were to court someone like, well Pansy, Granger or Draco, I would give them a bouquet of rarity roses. For Pansy one could buy purple and sage roses and for Draco cerulean and ultramarine roses, together with cream color roses. Nine roses. But a herbology professor like Neville needs something more special.” Blaise lectured.

Harry saw Malfoy holding a bouquet as Blaise had described before his inner eye. He saw him inhaling their scent. But then the imaginary Malfoy opened the card and read Harry’s name, threw the bouquet on the floor and stepped on them until every blossom looked dirty and as torn as Harry’s heart felt. _No, stop thinking about Malfoy. It’s for Neville. To make one of my friends happy. No need to have useless thoughts about myself._ Harry thought about the magical plants Neville talked about.

“Er, I think I have an idea what plant might be ideal for a courtship. There is a greek orchid called Manus amoris. It’s very hard to get and Neville told us that its blooms can be used for cosmetics that enhance the sensitivity in an exquisite way. It is a slightly suggestive gift, but it can be ideal for Neville, because he is self-conscious about his looks and you could show him with it that you find him absolutely sexy.” 

Bloody hell! Why had he to help Blaise with the courtship gifts exactly today and remember Dean and Seamus’s engagement party and the conversation about the best self-brewed lube? He had seen Malfoy naked today, but he would never again, leave alone test that lube with him.

Blaise wrote down “Order potted Manus amoris.”

“The second gift” he said afterwards, looking at Harry, “is one of company-keeping, usually something edible or drinkable. If someone were to court Millicent, she would get an assortment of cooking spices, for Draco, someone could buy chocolats fragrants de Grasse, exquisite chocolate with blossoms inside.”

“Neville is a tea connoisseur. We should go to his favorite tea shop and you should get an assortment for him.” Harry suggested, feeling a bit closer to his comfort zone.

Blaise wrote ‘Tea shop’, then leaned back. “Day three could be a new tea set, maybe with a charm to keep the tea at the ideal temperature. We should get that at the tea shop, too. Day three is always dedicated to items of hospitality, traditionally crockery. If I were to court Draco I would stray from tradition here, because the Malfoys could open a crockery museum already, I would give him one of these new charmed tablecloths that make the use of slurs or discriminating language at the table impossible. Thus, your friends could sit at the same table with Lucius Malfoy and he would have to behave. Draco told me a thousand times he wishes he had such a tablecloth. He can’t stand the way his father still thinks he is better than others. If I were courting Hermione, I would buy a tea set that quotes literature, both wizarding and Muggle.”

It occurred to Harry that Blaise used Draco as an example all the time. He would have preferred a different example, but so far, he tried to be polite.

“Day four and five are dedicated to work. For day four, inkwells used to be the most common present, but I think I should give him the newest Spelltop. After all, my firm produces them. If I had the necessary contents in my vault and wanted to court Viktor Krum or Draco, I would give him a Spellphone, if I weren’t the owner of Accio™, or a new owl. Everyone needs a Spellphone, and the newest model has just come out last week. With self-inking quills, inkwells are rapidly getting out of fashion.

Day five is more specific. It depends on the branch of the recipient’s trade. People will give a potioneer something potions-related, and when Seamus courted Dean, he bought him a charmed height adapting easel. I have this gift already: a new charmed apron and new Dragonhide gloves.”

“Day six is halftime, dedicated to cake, usually on a new expensive plate. Someone who would court you would buy treacle tart. I know that because Draco kept commenting your choice of dessert, and whenever there was no apple strudel, he would also resort to treacle tart. I know that Neville’s favorite cake is a Russian chocolate cheesecake. But I think you could help me choose a nice plate.”

“Why are you always talking about Malfoy?” Harry grumbled.

“He’s my closest friend, and I know most about him. Sorry. And sorry that I can’t really use two examples for everything without mentioning him every time.”

“O-kay.” Harry suspected Blaise of taking the mickey, but he couldn’t prove it. And he knew that it was less taking the mickey than Seamus would do often.

“Seventh day and eighth day are about clothes. Traditionally, seventh is about dress robes, but I think as gorgeous as Neville is in a Muggle suit, I want to buy him Armani and spell it to fit him perfectly. Even my uncle thinks so. But someone who courts Ron or Draco ought to book an outfitting with my uncle. For eighth day, it is jewellery. Neville doesn’t wear anything but cufflinks when he wears a Muggle suit. The traditional cufflink decoration is the man’s family crest, but as we are both men, I designed this.” He showed Harry a picture of a snake and a lion kissing inside a wreath of flowers.

“Beautiful. The lion looks like Neville’s Patronus.” When Harry pronounced the word Patronus, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. Pull yourself together! You can’t tell Blaise that you have problems conjuring a Patronus.

“Designing a symbol for a couple’s union is against tradition, but popular among LGBTQ couples.”

Harry could not fend off a mental image of the Draco constellation between two antlers encircled by lilies and Narcissi. But wasn’t that in vain? 

“On the ninth day, shoes, or for women, handbags are popular. Neville will get an outfitting session with my uncle’s shoemaker. Giving shoes or handbags is not the traditional thing to do, but the traditional gift of Amortentia laced with a hair is extremely problematic.”

“Thank Merlin such things are dying out.” Harry replied.

“Tenth and eleventh gifts can be a bit more risqué. I have bought them already; lingerie, erotic literature or even sex toys are not unusual. On the twelfth day, the required gift is a date. The suitor meets their love interest in a neutral place. Not showing up without explanation is a legitimate way of saying no. Nowadays, sex after the date is common, but the suitor can’t ask for it. If the courted person mentions tenth and/or eleventh day’s gifts, it means they want sex after the date. What do you think, should we start at the tea shop?”

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡====

“Can I invite Gertrud Sigurdsdottir? She is from a family that is the Icelandic equivalent of the Sacred 28.” Lucius started on his favorite topic. 

“No, Father, you **cannot.** You already made it impossible for me to get the one I love. Don’t you ever again dare to try to impose someone upon me! I. Will. Not. Marry. Any. Witch. I’m. Gay.” Draco got up, left his parents’ wing of the Manor and slammed every door between the dining room and his own room.

“Draco? Can I come in?” His mother’s voice sounded worried.

“If you promise not to try to persuade me to date any witch,” Draco brought out reluctantly. He sat up on the sofa.

“I wouldn’t dare to. I know you love Potter more than life. I’ve known ever since that day you claimed you weren’t sure if it was him. And I accept it. I want you to be happy.” She hugged him. “Your father may talk a lot, but he will have to accept it, too.”

“But Potter doesn’t care about me.” Draco whined.

“Maybe he does, only time will tell.”


	9. I Will Never Be The Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is the title of a song by Melissa Etheridge.
> 
> Thanks again to my awesome beta keyflight 790. Chris, you are awesome!

“So, you’re back, Malfoy. It’s not acceptable for a potioneer to get cursed and disappear for months. I would have the right to instantly dismiss you, but I’m not a bad person. You get two months to train your successor and to look for a new job. You’d better be grateful.” Mr. Dawson sneered at him.

Well, what did I expect, they finally had the reason to get rid of me. Draco walked over to his workplace, where a boy who looked fresh out of Hogwarts was grinding Ashwinder eggs. When the boy looked up, he seemed frightened, and Draco noticed that his anger must have shown in the way he had walked in. He forced himself to pause and gave the boy a friendly look. After all, this was not his fault. “Hello, you are the one who needs to be trained? I’m Draco.”

“Liam. Er, my name is Liam Michaels, sir.” The boy looked to the sides as if he was looking for a way to escape.

“Listen, Liam, I’m no ‘sir,’ I will be your colleague who teaches you those potions skills that go beyond what you learned in Hogwarts. I’m not going to hex you. Call me Draco.” He knew his little speech was not the most convincing, but what else could he do?

“Are-are you sure? I-I’m getting your job, and I’m a … never mind. They said I have to watch my back.” Liam’s voice sounded thin.

“So, did they? Clifford put Ashwinder eggs in my Headache potion, Baker hexed my cauldron to cool down instead of simmering, and McTavish even slipped dungbombs in different kinds of potions. And I didn’t hex any of them.” Draco thought he should have hexed every one of them.

“But they are Purebloods and a half-blood.” Liam murmured.

“Is that what they told you?” Draco asked wearily.

Liam nodded.

“Look, I can’t deny that I grew up in a blood purist family with a deatheater father. And it’s true that I was marked with the Dark Mark at 16. But I no longer believe that bullshit. And I will train you to do well, not because of Dawson’s Perfect Potions but for yourself. Because you deserve a good future. Tell them I’m rude to you, tell them I treat you bad if you think it helps you to cope with them, because you will still have to cope with them when I’m gone, but you and I know that I will do my best to teach you, and that I respect you.” Draco saw a shy smile appear on Liam’s face.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

With Malfoy having turned back to his human form and gone, Harry’s nightmares returned, assaulting him whenever he dozed off. Malfoy burning, Malfoy bleeding to death, Malfoy walking into the Department of Mysteries and flinging himself through the veil, Malfoy rejecting him, telling him he would rather AK himself than spend time with him. Harry had filed his report and handed it to Robards, who had accepted it with a worried look. “Potter, you can lecture the Aurors on their tasks in a democratic wizarding society, but first you need to take a week off and make sure you recover from whatever makes you look that sick. I’d recommend you check in at St. Mungo’s for an examination, you look like you did after the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“It’s nothing, just the ending of this case has triggered some memories of the war. I’ll get in touch with my mindhealer and come back in one week.” Harry replied, summoning his discipline. He couldn’t possibly tell Robards that he was in love with Malfoy, who happened to be the one person who just saw a speccy, messy-haired prat when he looked at him. As a ferret, Malfoy had seemed to like him, but in his human form, he would never forgive the rejected handshake from when they were eleven years old. Harry went home, curled up on the sofa and cried.

Days went by, his friends came visiting, and pried the tale of what had happened from him, having a hard time to get him to speak more than monosyllabic answers, unless he was responding to automatically help them. Ron shouted at him twice that he could not seriously stay moping at home, and Pansy and Hermione practically dragged him to the Ministry gym to make him do something for himself. Harry dutifully ran on the treadmill, pumped some iron and tried not to cry in public when Seamus passed in front of him, wearing a hoodie with a pocket.

Hermione told him that she heard from Pansy, that Malfoy was sacked from the Potions lab, that they only let him stay on for two months to train his successor, and that it had been hard to find this job, with most people rejecting Malfoy because of his past.

A little bit of energy came back to Harry. He may not be able to ever get close to Malfoy again, but he knew how to make a difference for him. And at least if it was to work out, he would see his face from afar and know he had something to do with an improvement in Malfoy’s life. If his life kept being “Look but don’t touch,” at least he could make sure he had his share of looking.

The next morning, he went to Tesco’s, bought all he needed for ginger biscuits and started baking. As usual, when he wanted to bake, Kreacher was a bit grumpy, although he had to admit that baking had become quite difficult for him, now that he was over 100. Harry told him about his plan, and the elf’s face lit up. “Master Harry must help Master Draco, Kreacher wanted to tell Master Harry the ferret was Master Draco Malfoy, but every time Kreacher tried, he could not breathe. House-elves can see through the wish curse, but they can’t help to break it. That is being part of the wish curse. Kreacher wanted to iron his hands every time, but Master Harry has strictly forbidden Kreacher to ever iron his hands.”

“Yes, and it’s strictly forbidden for the rest of your life, Kreacher. I’m quite happy with how you treated Malfoy.” Harry said with a smile. “Master Harry must give the good Ogden’s, too. She will have a lot of one-on-one convincing to do.” Kreacher suggested.

As soon as the good biscuits were done Kreacher had wrapped the most expensive Ogden’s Harry had received from Mr. Ogden himself. They wrapped it in a shamrock wrapping paper, after having found out that the McGonagall family was in fact not Scottish but Irish. Around lunch time, he Apparated with the biscuits, a rented post owl and the Ogden’s to Hogsmeade. After the disaster when Malfoy had turned back, he didn’t trust his ability to conjure a Patronus. Maybe he should ask Minnie about it.

Minnie’s Patronus allowed him to enter the school grounds, and he walked to the Great Hall.

“Polijucem Revelio! Metamorphmagum Revelio!” Minnie shouted, wand at the ready.

“Hello, Minnie, it’s really me.” Harry said shyly.

“Sorry, Harry, I had to make sure it’s really you. You didn’t conjure a Patronus.” She apologized.

“Last time I conjured one it was just an incorporeal one. And this time I had no courage. It’s horrible.” His eyes stung with uncried tears, as they did so often recently.

She put a hand on his shoulder in a parentlike gesture. “Oh, Harry, don’t get frightened. You are not the first who experiences this, and you won’t be the last. Your Patronus is changing. It takes some time to settle into its new form. I still remember how scared Tonks was when hers changed in the middle of the war and all. Yours changes in peacetime. You have all the time of the world to let it settle. Was that the reason of your sudden visit?”

“Actually, no. You told me, that Professor Slughorn would rather retire sooner than later. And I think I have a solution, albeit one that will need a lot of persuading to the governors and would mean a gradual retirement, but he could start reducing his workload immediately as soon as the governors accept it. He would only have to prepare the new Potions teacher for the official Mastery. But I know the potential new teacher is ready for it.” Harry told her.

“And who would that be?” Minnie asked with a smile that made him wonder if she knew it already.

“Draco Malfoy.”

“Malfoy? Would he want to change? I heard he is working for a big Potions lab, they might even pay more.” Minnie had a curious look on her face.

“They are replacing him by first of July, I heard. I don’t know if he would want to work in the same place as me, to be honest, …”

“But you hope. I do like the idea of employing him. He was the best Potions student since Snape, equal to Hermione at it, but she never loved it as much as he did. I’ll gladly convince the governors and Horace.” Minnie gave him a motherly smile.

“I brought you something to help convince the governors. I baked biscuits, and thought, this Ogden’s needs a real connoisseur, not an ignorant person like me.” Harry brought out his gifts for her.

“Oh, you packed the Ogden’s in a shamrock paper? You know my family is originally from Ireland?”

“I wanted to pack it in the McGonagall tartan, just to find out that your ancestors are Irish. Then I settled for shamrocks.”

“My paternal ancestors are, my father moved to Scotland because of my mother. She was from Braemar. Another thing: Can it be that you were not completely unselfish when you suggested Draco Malfoy for the job?”

“He doesn’t like me. If it is ‘Look but don’t touch’ for me, I might at least get my share of looking at his gorgeous face.” Harry said glumly. “Please, whatever you do, don’t tell him that I suggested him for the job.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t, unless if you are mistaken in your judgement of his feelings.”

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

“Master Draco, Sir. Wolly is sorry, he was saying he needs to be talking to you immediately and just walked in.” Wolly’s upset voice sounded outside his room.

“Merlin’s sake let him in, before Fa- … Weasley?”

“Good evening, Malfoy. I won’t tolerate this anymore. Harry is moping, you are moping, you both don’t take care of yourselves and your friends have to pry the truth about what’s wrong from you.”

“I haven’t cursed Potter or called Granger slurs or whatever you accuse me of.” Draco grumbled.

“And I’m not accusing you of anything or insulting you. You are doing that yourself. I’m here to tell you to stop harming yourself at once. And if you can’t stand that you don’t fit in Harry’s pocket, become a fucking Animagus!” Weasley gave him a stern look that seemed to be copied from McGonagall.

“And what is it to you how I treat myself? It wouldn’t be your business if I crucioed myself on a regular basis.” Draco snarled.

“Wrong. Even if I were the selfish prat you wanted me to be, it would concern me if it affects someone I care about. But it also concerns me, because I know you are not as you were when we were 14. I know how you do your best to train Liam well, his girlfriend works for us to finance her studies of wizarding law. And I told you, you are moping, and Harry is moping, for the same fucking reason. Move your fucking stubborn Slytherin arse and start courting him. I know he will say yes.” Weasley opened the windows to let the sun in. “Look, it’s a beautiful day, a good day to buy all the courtship gifts you need.”

“How do you know?” Draco asked under his breath.

“What kind of an adoptive brother would I be if I didn’t know he likes you very much and in that way?” Weasley opened Draco’s wardrobe and threw a pair of jeans and a moonstone blue button-down shirt at him, and he found himself complying automatically, but then paused and sat back down.

“How do you know I like him in that way?” Draco specified his question.

“Have you not listened to Pansy recently? She is dating Hermione. Pansy, Hermione, Greg and I drew straws to determine who has to make you move your sorry arse, and I drew the short straw.” Ron’s grimace at the ‘short straw’ made Draco laugh despite himself.

“You see, you will become happy again once you start taking your life in your hands. It’s your life, not some kind of sodding ancestors’ life. If they fucked up their own, they can’t tell you how to live yours.”

“But I will have to save money. I just lost my job, and it still takes time until I can access all the Malfoy fortune. And Potter deserves the best of the best.” Draco was shocked at his own whining voice.

“Merlin’s pants! Do you hear yourself? But, but, but! If you can’t afford a courtship right now, I can lend you money, the Wheezes’ Mature catalogue was an idea that skyrockets our finances. And I’m dating Viktor Krum, who is rich as fuck. I want my best bro to be happy. If that means a happy part-time ferret Malfoy, then I will do all I can to help you. And don’t think I have forgotten how you helped me choose clothes to go to the courtship appointment. You were a wingman for me, now I’ll be one for you. And you can’t say no, because if I don’t succeed, Pansy, Hermione and Ginny will try together. Believe me, Ginny’s bat-bogey hexes grew more vicious over the years.”

Draco finally got up, got dressed, combed his hair, and the two men Flooed to Diagon Alley.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

When Harry returned home, it was 1 pm. Minnie had forced lunch on him, although he didn’t have appetite. He sat down on the sofa and felt lonely; he never would have thought that a ferret would be such good company, but that had not simply been a ferret, but Draco Malfoy. He wished he could feel if Malfoy’s hair in his human form was as silky as in his ferret form. He tried in vain to distract himself from Draco Malfoy, not only in his ferret form. He had noticed Malfoy’s pert arse, when he had ducked behind the sofa, and the image kept popping up in his mind and tormenting him.

Suddenly the Floo flared to life, and his former Auror partner on maternity leave, Morag and her husband, Terry Boot-MacDougal, stared at him.

“Harry, you look like shit. What happened?” Terry exclaimed.

“Heartache. Don’t worry about me. Is the little one there?” Harry tried to deflect from his own situation. After all, Morag was either pregnant or a new mother. In both ways, he didn’t want to bother her.

“Yeah, congratulations, you are the godfather of little Lavina Boot-MacDougal.” Morag said with a smile. “She was born yesterday morning at 5.15, weighs 3.25 kg, and if you come through, you can take a look at her. Harry stepped through, and Morag led him to the crib, in which little Lavina slumbered, dressed in a red-green-white-blue Tartan onesie.

“So, what arsetrumpet broke your heart? I had hoped that being free to leave the Aurors would make you happier.” Terry asked.

“No arsetrumpet, when I was on Malfoy’s case and tried to glean information from his diaries, I fell in love with him. And then it turned out that he was there the whole time, in a ferret form. But of course, when he turned back, he yelled at me and left.” Harry replied glumly.

“What exactly did he yell?” Morag inquired.

“He said he had been happier as a ferret.” Harry struggled to speak the words.

“How can a clever Auror as you be that stupid?” Morag exclaimed. “Being a ferret meant being around you. You carried him around, cuddled with him, talked to him. Being a man again means that he assumes that you still hate him. Last time I saw him on Diagon Alley, he ran into a lantern staring at your arse.”

“Mate, you better research on courtship and court him properly. You won’t hold your goddaughter in your arms before you have told us about your complete courtship plan. Accio ‘Art of Courtship’!” A book zoomed into Terry’s hand. He pressed it into Harry’s hand and gestured towards the Floo. “Hurry up, you have a lot to do. Tonight, you can give us a report about the first gifts you plan to give him.”

Thanks to Blaise’s instructions, Harry didn’t need Terry’s book or much time to think; he knew what shops to go to. Apart from the gifts for the last two days he had all the courtship gifts in his pockets or trailing behind him in self-levitating shopping bags, when he approached his second-to-last stop.

Pans and Millie’s Charmed Lingerie was written in golden letters on the enchanted shop window. When someone looked inside, they could see their reflection, but instead of their own clothes, the reflection would wear lingerie in the style they would think of.

Whenever Harry had passed this shop before, he would simply see himself in boxer shorts, but after he had helped Blaise arrange the courtship gifts on a table and seen a sapphire blue lace panty with matching stockings and garter lying there, it seemed to have affected his idea of lingerie. Now, he saw himself in black lace that rather displayed than hid his parts.

He took a deep breath and walked in.

“Harry, nice to see you.” Pansy shouted from the counter. “Look around already, I still have to counsel another customer, then I’ll come to you.”

Harry looked around but saw nobody. The rumors came to his mind that Pans and Millie’s had special disillusionment wards, that concealed other customers from view and hearing, even to the extent that if somebody spoke their names, another customer would not hear it. You could only see your significant other and Pansy, Millie or one of their employees.

Harry walked around, looked at pieces of lingerie and imagined Malfoy in them. It had to be something very special, but would he really wear lace? Harry felt his body responding very much to the idea of Malfoy in lace, and he had seen a red lace thong that made him half-hard by just thinking of the contrast with Malfoy’s milky skin tone. But would Malfoy really consent to wear such an outrageous piece of cloth? Especially if it came in one set with fishnet stockings and a garter?

Maybe if he sent a picture taken with a floating camera that showed him in a similar piece in Slytherin green? He looked around and saw a piece that looked similar to what he thought of. He saw on the label that the color was called Lightning Emerald, and the price was 20 galleons. He reached for it…

… and touched another hand.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

A hand tried to snatch the beautiful Lightning Emerald thong from him. This thong that would be looking so exquisite on Potter, if he chose to accept the courtship.

“Stop it. I need this to court Harry Potter,” he blurted out, then gasped at his own loss of control, but suddenly he saw who stood opposite him, holding the thong.

It was Harry Potter himself, chuckling softly, then letting go of the thong. “And I wanted to buy it and send you a picture of myself in this with my courtship gift to persuade you to wear the lingerie I want to buy for you, even though it’s red.”

“Please, for Merlin’s sake. Don’t mock me.” Draco said in a resigned voice.

“Why would I?” Potter took Draco’s hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed Draco’s knuckles. “I was always attracted to you. And when I read about how you perceived things that happened in our lives to find out where you are, I fell in love with you. I want to hold you in my arms every night again, but this time in your normal human form.”

Draco pulled him into a hug, leaned down and kissed his lips softly, half expecting to wake up from a dream back to his loneliness, but Harry opened his mouth, licked hungrily between Draco’s lips and at his tongue, plundering Draco’s mouth, and Draco wondered if it was possible to apparate from Pansy’s shop directly into his bedroom. He just wanted this, wanted to hold Harry, make love to him, and be with him forever.

When they had to breathe, Draco noticed Pansy standing behind Harry. “You’d better get a room, before the next customers fall over you. These sets of lingerie are on the house. And now shoo, go home and shag already.”

They laughed, and Draco said: “Thank you Pans, bye.”

“Say hi to Hermione for us,” Harry added.

Outside the shop, Harry conjured a Patronus, and it looked like a ferret. “Tell Morag that Draco and I are together now, and that I’ll firecall her tomorrow.”


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you so much to my awesome beta keyflight790, without whom the fic would have taken three times as long to write and still not been that quality. (Sends keyflight790 a big virtual bouquet.)
> 
>  
> 
> I'm planning to write a sequel to this fic, but as I have some fest fics in my waiting line, I'll have to postpone that a little.

**Hogwarts, a year later, Harry’s birthday**

“You just wanted to be a ferret to sit in Harry’s hoodie pocket again.” Ron teased.

“Weasel king, how am I going to sit in his hoodie pocket if he’s in his animal form, too? Are you going to dress him in a hoodie? Anyway, why do you assume I’m a ferret, I might be a snake or a desmodus bat.”

“As long as you are no acromantula or another big spider…”

Draco laughed, and Harry felt a surge of happiness. Draco and Ron still constantly bantered and bickered, and never stopped calling each other names, but there was no more malice to it, rather a fondness and friendship that Harry was extremely grateful for.

They had left Harry and Draco’s apartment in the school to attend the Animagus registration ceremony by the lake. And they wanted to surprise each other with their form; of course, each of them had known it for long, but they had agreed to make it a surprise.

Antonia Goldstein, who looked beautiful after her transition was the ministry representative present to register them, and Minnie, Hermione, Pansy, Blaise, Neville, Ron and Viktor had assembled.

“Ron, could you do a countdown for us, please?” Harry asked.

“Five – four – three – two – one!” Ron exclaimed.

Both men transformed with their eyes closed.

(ˉˉˉˉˉˉΞΞΞΞΞΞ≡≡≡≡≡≡==== 

Draco had known that he was a ferret; he had only in joke told their friends again and again that he was an amoeba or a thestral or something else. He knew he looked exactly like he had when he had sacrificed his human status, before Harry had recognized him.

When the meditation had shown him that his inner animal was really a ferret, he had been surprised by feeling completely at home with it; he knew the strengths and weaknesses of his animal form.

Minnie, who had helped both him and Harry to become Animagi and told them stories about Sirius and Harry’s father, had wanted to comfort him, but he had been happy. It may have been important for Sirius and James to be big and keep a werewolf in control, but for him, ferret size felt just right.

He had heard that the first transformation would hurt, but probably his body already knew the ferret form. It had hurt, though, when the false Moody had turned him into a ferret.

Draco opened his eyes and saw that Harry had turned into a black kitten with emerald eyes. The most beautiful kitten he had ever seen. He approached, and Harry started purring.

They both cuddled up there, and Draco nuzzled Harry’s ear. He loved the way Harry smelled.

“Harry, Draco, would you please transform back?” Antonia interrupted Draco’s thoughts of _‘soft – warm – mine”._

They transformed back, holding each other tight.

Antonia handed them their Animagus licences, and Minnie opened a bottle of alcohol-free wine.

“I’m proud of you both. Harry, you are one of the two best DADA teachers I have seen in my whole time at Hogwarts, only Remus was equal to you, and Draco, you are the best potions teacher since the time I remember, because you are competent both at developing potions and at teaching. The students keep telling me that they are glad the vaccinating potions don’t taste as vile as they used to. Raise your glasses to our Harry and our Draco!”

After that, they drank their wine, holding hands at the same time and answered their friends’ questions on how it feels to be an Animagus.

“Harry,” Ron interrupted them, after his wand had flown out of his wand pocket and poked his shoulder. “Remember, Draco, you and I still have an appointment with Etienne Zabini for the suits for your wedding. Our portkey leaves in five minutes, and we should take it, so we will be back for your birthday party before the others are here.”


End file.
